Anecdotes written by D. Ian Smith. Warning: explicit content!
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JUGS
There will probably come a time where you will be out with your woman, (grocery shopping, the library, a movie perhaps), and through no fault of your own, a gorgeous, drop dead bombshell will walk by; a woman so riveting that she could stop traffic on a one way street. Now, don't panic when your woman decides to put you on the spot by asking you, "Is she prettier than me?" the way to handle this question, is to act real surprised, and respond by saying, "Who? You mean that fat pig? Get real. She looks like she just crawled out of bed. Besides, her tits are too small. Naw, I like you...you got nice jugs."
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YOUTUBE
I have a new girlfriend
It's called Youtube.
Two things that I like about it:
it doesn't talk back, and, no matter how rough it gets,
I don't have to worry about anybody pressing charges.
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MELANIE ROSE
My friend Melanie Rose does stand up comedy, and she was on Facebook awhile back. She said, "I am at a loss for words: I don't know what to say."
So I replied, "Say swear words, it's fun."
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LILY'S NEVER AROUND
Lily is never around
She has better things to do than spend her time with me
I should start singing a song Sting once wrote about stalking his ex-wife,
"Every Breath You Take, I'll Be Watching You"
Lily's real boyfriend may want to beat me up,
"Hey buddy! Are you stalking my wife?"
"No sir, I'm just singing her love songs."
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A GREASEBALL WHO STABS ANOTHER GREASEBALL
I'm in the 7th grade. I am part of a club that is hosting a raffle as a fundraiser for an upcoming convention, and we are selling tickets at a table in the downtown shopping mall. As I am reading, I can hear some kind of ruckus behind me; but, I am so engrossed with my book that I choose to ignore it. That is, until my friend KYLE starts in on me to take a look. At first, I don't want to take my attention away from what it is that I am reading. But, he refuses to leave me alone, so I turn around; and sure enough, I see these two greaseballs fighting one another. The greaseball who is losing takes a jack knife from his coat pocket, and thrusts it into the other greaseball, stabbing him in the stomach. Before falling to the ground, the stabbed greaseball throws a devastating left hook right into the face of the guy who just stabbed him, and shatters his nose. The stabber starts to run away, blood trailing from his face, and the other guy crumbles to the shopping mall floor, blood traling from his stomach, as everybody stands in awe and stares. Nobody does anything, and finally, my friend ROBBIE yells out, "Somebody call a fucking ambulance!" The police and the paramedics come to help this poor stupid bastard: a guy who goes by the name of MIKE, (who it turns out started the fight - something KYLE and ROBBIE explain to me later). I give a statement to the police officer who asks me if I saw anything; and, I tell him that I saw the stabbing and the punch to the face. Greaseball MIKE gets taken to the hospital, and Greaseball number two is picked up at the railway tracks, and taken into custody. But, I can still remember this guy just lying on the floor of the mall, bleeding, and nobody was going to do anything to help him. They all just watched as he lay there bleeding. Strange.
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IN THE RODEO
So, my friends and I have just graduated from high school, and my one friend has just been dumped by his girlfriend, (who happens to be a classical music snob). The next thing I know, she's mastering all the lyrics to these real corny Country And Western songs, (along with my ex-girlfriend), and going to the local meat market, (a cowboy bar) to score. My friend explains to me that his ex-girlfriend is learning these tunes so that she can impress the drunken rednecks in the bar, get picked up, and get taken home for a real good time.
"You mean to tell me that the only reason they're committing all this Cheatin' & Drinkin' horse shit to memory is so they can get ridden like they were in the rodeo?"
"Yes."
"They don't really care for the music?"
"Right."
"Does this tactic work for you and me as well? If we knew the lyrics to these stupid songs, would some drunken, recently divorced cougar be itchin' to take one of us home for a roll in the hay?"
"Possibly."
"Sheeit! Is that all someone has to do these days to get laid? You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me Lucille..."
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GHOST OF THE COCKROACH
It's 1997. I'm 26 years old, and I've just arrived in the VIRGIN ISLANDS. The first thing I learn is that you can carry an open beer around with you wherever you go; but, you can't take your shirt off in the confines of town. I'm here with my band: we're called SWEET THURSDAY. ADAM is the guitarist; STEVE is the lead singer; MARTY is on drums; and I'm on bass. I'm a little reluctant to be here: I'm afraid that the trip will be a lost cause; but STEVE comes here every winter, and makes his living playing music. Sure enough, within two weeks, we're gigging up a storm. MARTY and I get hired on as the rhythm section for ADAM and STEVE. We also get taken on with THE MATTRESS COWBOYS, as well as a jazz fusion group that calls itself TUESDAY NIGHT JAZZ. All three groups are well received, but it's with SWEET THURSDAY that we make the most noise.
The guys warn me that there's a lot of crackheads here, and I'm told that if they give me any trouble, don't bother going to the police. It's not long before I'm exiting a club one night, and a Rasta-crackhead who goes by AHKIL, comes up to me and says, "You gonna give me your money or I fuck you up!"
I don't say anything: I just smile, and walk away, and he starts to follow me with, "Who you smiling at, white man? Blah, blah, blah." I stop and wait for him to jump me from behind: thinking that when he gets close enough, that I'm going to have to fight him; but, he backs off. Later, I'm outside, and he waits until everybody has gone back in, and he starts with the threats again. I sit there, and wait for him to make a move, but he just goes wandering off, spewing some tirade about some nonsense. One of the locals fills me in, that this AHKIL won't remember anything by tomorrow. Later on, he asks me point blank why I don't like him, and I give him an earful. He's obviously ashamed of his behaviour. There's quite a few Rastas who like my band because I sing songs by DENNIS BROWN and PETER TOSH, so they want to be our friends. I realize that AHKIL has got it in him to be a nice guy; so, I forgive him, and from then on he minds his manners while I'm around.
During our first gig, a big fellow by the name of HOMEBOY comes up to each of us, and hands us a $20.00 bill. He tells me that if this had been last year, he'd be giving us $100.00 each. I have a pretty good idea where he gets his money from, and I don't need to be told by the bartender to stay away from him; but MARTY and ADAM think that this is cool. They get this idea in their heads that HOMEBOY is our protection, and that as long as we're here, "Nobody will fuck with us." the problem is that HOMEBOY likes to imbibe in the shit that he's selling, and he's going noticeably more and more crazy everyday, from cocaine psychosis. Then he starts to show his true colours. First he sucker punches ADAM; then, he goes around having conversations with the mailbox. One day I see him, and he's talking to thin air, about how he gets his drugs from TORTOLA, another island. Then something really bad happens: there's an argument at one of the bars, between HOMEBOY and another individual, over the song that's being played on the jukebox. HOMEBOY takes out his pistol, and shoots the other fellow, and kills him. Everybody on the island knows who did what: it's no secret, but the V.I. police department doesn't have any witnesses who will come forward; so, they hold onto one of HOMEBOY's friends, trying to get him to roll. HOMEBOY is a little nervous about all this, and so he mails his partner a pair of running shoes, with drugs inside of them, hoping it'll keep the guy's mouth shut: only, he makes the mistake of putting his return address on the package, and the feds come along and apprehend him for sending narcotics through the postal system. That's the last we ever see of him.
One night I'm at home alone, and I kill a cockroach in the bathroom, before turning in early. I wake up to see a figure standing in my living room. He sees me and walks out and, because it's pitch black, I assume that it's STEVE: only, I find out later that STEVE never came home, so I know it was an intruder. I tell myself that it's my bad karma coming back to haunt me for killing that poor innocent little creature, and I name our visitor "The Ghost of the Cockroach". Then, sometime later down the road, I wake up, and see "STEVE" on our patio, and I make the mistake of assuming that he woke up for a quick pee. "STEVE" climbs over the railing, and I'm horrified because I think that I've just seen my friend jump off the railing and plunge to his death. Then I see that the real STEVE is still fast asleep, and I immediately realize that "The Ghost of the Cockroach" paid us another visit; and that this time he managed to steal my wallet. Luckily for me, I kept my money hidden, and all that I lost was my identification; but, my cage really gets rattled by this little episode. The next day, a neighbor explains to me that the guy who is the prime suspect in all these break-ins is a fellow by the name of DELANO. He's just been released from jail, and everyone assumes that he's responsible. I find out where this man lives, and I go up to his house, hoping to find my I.D. His neighbour comes outside, to see what I'm doing there, and I tell him about the break-in at my house. He fills me in as to what's going on, and, as I leave, I tell everybody that if this character ever comes back to my home, I'm going to pick him up, and throw him off of my balcony. I later get a glimpse of DELANO, and I know that he's not as tall as the "Ghost of the Cockroach", and that he's not the guy. I make sure to tell the chief of police that someone other than DELANO was responsible for the break-in at my house, as I feel bad for jumping the gun. I want everybody to know that DELANO has been wrongfully incriminated; but, there is still a strong suspicion amongst the locals that DELANO is friends with the real culprit, as I'm not the only person who gets robbed. word gets around the island that I've gone up to his house looking for my I.D.; people know that I'll defend what's mine, and whoever it was that broke into our place doesn't come back.
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MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL, WHO'S THE WORST OF THEM ALL?
I'm just starting elementary school, and, I'm in the First Grade. One of the kids, named TROY, has a fondness for hurting me. We often get into fights, and I hate him because he won't leave me alone. There's a consensus amongst the rest of the class that he's both crazy and stupid, but none of us clue in to the fact that the root of the problem is the fact that he's most certainly a victim of abuse at home. Like a lot of kids in his predicament, he takes it out on the easiest target he can find, and that happens to be me. One day a group of us are playing after school, and he decides to hide behind a tree and throw a rock, thinking it'll hit me in the face. But he makes a mistake, and it crashes into my friend EARL's forehead instead, missing his left eye by a couple of centimeters. TROY knows he's in trouble for this one, but he still thinks I'm the one who should be blamed. I make no bones about the fact that I loathe him; somebody points out that there are people in the world who are far worse than TROY. It turns out to be true, but at that moment, all I can think about is the fact that he's totally psycho. He's always a problem in class, and even goes so far as to kick a pregnant teacher in the stomach. Eventually he moves away, and all we can say is good riddance.
The next kid I start having to deal with is ADAM. He's a little miscreant who also likes to fight: as long as you're smaller than him. He too notices that I'm an easy target. He jumps me every chance he gets: sometimes his friends are there to help him, and it doesn't stop until our Grade 3 teacher lets him have it. After awhile, he decides to leave me alone, because the thrill is gone. There's an older girl named DEBBIE, who really gets a kick out of throwing her weight around. Her older sister WENDY is bad enough, but she's even worse. At this point I'm afraid of anybody who displays any sign of sadism and, no matter where I turn, there's no shortage of these people. There's one kid who happens to be older than me, and he likes using me as a punching bag. He kicks me in the stomach so hard, my nose starts bleeding. The older I get, the less frequently I have to endure this sort of thing, but it doesn't go away completely. There's an incident in the 9th Grade involving a guy named GEORGE. His sister and I hang out for awhile, but she eventually moves on, because I'm not interested in getting serious. Her friend tells me that she's saying some real off colour comments, which surprises me; so I enquire about it. Now it gets turned around that I'M the one who's starting rumours about her, which isn't true at all. GEORGE gets wind of this, and wants to go at it with me. He and another kid confront me while I'm with my friends one evening, and he proceeds to threaten me quite seriously. He makes the mistake of threatening to cut my balls off with a knife, which really pisses off my friend STACY. At this point STACY is just seconds away from totally killing GEORGE. GEORGE fancies himself a tough guy, but realizes that STACY can put both him and his friend in the hospital with no trouble at all. GEORGE is thrilled to see his older friend GUS come along, but GUS actually likes me, and he tells GEORGE that it would be a cool idea to calm down. Whatever he's mad about isn't worth the trouble. STACY lets GEORGE know that if he crosses his path again, he won't think twice about putting him in a wheelchair, GUS or no GUS.
One of the worst offenders in our junior high school is a guy by the name of RYAN. While he's not the only one, he's still quite notorious for causing trouble. Most of these individuals settle down as time goes along. I have to give some of these people credit for the fact that somewhere along the way, they do learn some compassion. RYAN on the other hand, still wants everybody to fear him. Oddly enough, he leaves me alone, but he's got a huge number of other victims to choose from, including my old comrade ADAM. A few of the kids in Grade 9 decide that it's time to give RYAN a taste of his own medicine; so, they call in a guy who everybody refers to as SHADOW. The kids are all in awe of SHADOW, because he's older, and he's known for sticking up to guys like RYAN. RYAN doesn't realize how close he is to actually getting killed, until it becomes clear that this guy doesn't want to just beat RYAN up: he wants to take a knife to him. RYAN decides from then on that it's best to clean up his act; and, while he still fancies himself a tough guy, he's usually no longer a problem for the others. There's a number of people who don't understand why these experiences leave me with a chip on my shoulder. For the longest time I've had a deep seated resentment towards the "in crowd". Throughout my school years I see a number of less fortunate kids receive loads of abuse and invective, especially people who have a disability of some sort. But I discover that the majority of these bullies do grow up sometime. While I may not want to have much to do with the lot of them, I discover first hand, that you're lucky if guys like RYAN are the worst folks you come across.
I'm in my late twenties, and I'm walking home at night alone. I have a two hour trek, and I'm anxious to get to bed: it's late in March. I run into a kid who is from out of town. We both spot a person lying on the ground, and I assume it's a drunk who has passed out from too much booze. I'm annoyed by all this, because it means I have to carry him someplace warm, and I have to do it fast, thinking he'll get hypothermia if I don't. We get to him, and we can see he's been kicked to death. His facial bones are totally crushed, and he's lying in a puddle of his own blood. I see that his hands are a pasty blue-ish white, and come to the conclusion that since the circulation has been cut off to his fingers, it means that his heart has stopped beating. We notify 911, and each give statements to the police. The victim's name is GORMLEY. In a year's time I will have to testify against his attackers, who are still in their teens.
The brevity of the situation starts to get to me. A day after I discover the body, I call on STACY, and let him know what I've come across. He's always there for me when I need him, and I know that, in his time working corrections, he's had a chance to deal with this sort of thing. There's nothing that he hasn't heard. He's immediately worried that I may have seen something that could prove to be damaging:
"Okay, the first thing I have to ask you is, DID YOU SEE ANYTHING: ANYTHING AT ALL? Because, if you did, we have to get you out of here and find you a place to hide."
I assure him that there is nothing to worry about, but the truth is that the whole affair is slowly kicking my already existing paranoia into overdrive. By this time in my life I've been threatened; I've had people break into my house while I was home; I've seen people cause harm to my friends and relatives; and, I've even witnessed some really horribly violent pornography... This one video in particular really disturbs me, like I'm told it would; and, I can only watch a few seconds of it before I must leave. This specific piece of porn haunts me for a long time, because I'm convinced these two girls have been forced to do all this. In my mind, there are only two possibilities: a) they were forced at gunpoint, or b) they did it for drugs. By this time I think I've seen it all, but nothing can prepare me for finding someone who's been murdered. STACY knows that, as far as my mental health goes, I'm not out of the woods. Sure enough, it gets so bad, that over a long period of time, I go into a state of grieving for this man, to the point where people can't stand to be near me. I finally have to be hospitalized because I end up trying to take my own life. It takes awhile, but I eventually come to terms with it, knowing full well that this is the worst thing that has yet happened to me. I want to say that you're lucky if that bully at school is the worst person you ever have to come across; but then again, they sometimes turn out to be the very people who go out of their way to really harm somebody. I'm glad I know how to pick my friends.
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A REALLY BAD IDEA
I'm 12 years old, and it's summer time. An incident occurs at the confectionary next to my house, involving some fellows who just love to terrorize me every chance they get: ANDREW, DAVID, and DARREN. These guys all love to bully me, and, they're quite mean when they do it. It gets to the point where no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to avoid them. The time comes when I realize that nobody is going to stand up for me, so I make up my mind to do it myself.
We're inside the store; I'm waiting for my friend KIRK to finish his video game, as I'm really anxious to leave; but, he isn't ready to go. These three guys start in on me with their usual shit: they take turns hitting me; they all take turns calling me names, which I'm used to, and there's some threats. It gets to the point where I can't take anymore, and, after one of them takes off with my bicycle, I go into my bedroom, and get my jack-knife. I go outside and confront them, and I'm totally hysterical. I chase ANDREW first, because he's the one who has been at me the longest. Luckily for me (and him), he's riding his BMX, so I don't have a chance in catching him. Then I hold up the knife and start swearing at the other two, who both realize that if they even so much as say anything, they might get hurt. DARREN is actually the worst of the bunch, and he really likes to dish it out: not only for me, but for other kids in the neighbourhood as well. The thing that makes him so scary is the fact that he's in Grade 11 or 12, and he's got a bad case of little man's syndrome. It's common knowledge that HE gets picked on by his peers, so he looks for somebody else to take it out on. My mother and a few others are furious with me when I tell them that I've done this, but, I refuse to be sorry. Right away both ANDREW and DAVID decide to leave me alone from then on, and only DARREN is still a problem: he still carries a grudge because I really freaked him out by freaking out at him. He doesn't clue in to the fact that I want nothing more than to be left alone: that is, until a new friend I've made tells him that if he ever bothers me again, he's going to regret it.
Sometime later that year, I'm playing basketball at my elementary school with a friend named BILLY. It's mid-evening, and it's still light outside. We're minding our own business, and three kids come by. I recognize JAY and TRACY. The youngest one I don't know, but BILLY knows him, and his name is CHUCK. They're brother and sister, and right away, this kid takes a disliking to me. He starts out by making all these obscene gestures and remarks at me, which I actually find disturbing, because he's quite young. BILLY goes to school with this kid, but he doesn't tell me right away why he's afraid of him. The kid starts throwing rocks at me, at which point I say enough is enough. There is a huge chain-link fence separating us, but I know that he could take out my eye. I decide that I don't actually want to go down and break this kid's nose (which I could do quite easily), because I don't want to hurt anybody: I just want this little turd to go away, so BILLY and I can go on shooting baskets. So, I make the very unwise decision of pulling out my knife, and telling JUNIOR that he had better run along. This actually rattles his cage, because he's not used to anybody standing up to him. Then BILLY lets me in on the scoop, as we leave:
"Holy shit. Do you know his dad's in the HELLS ANGELS?"
"What's that?"
"They're a type of organization, like the Mafia, and they sometimes hurt people. Even the police are afraid of them."
"You think there'll be trouble?"
"You better hope he doesn't spot you."
The next day, I'm there again: same time; same place, only this time I'm with TRAVIS. A black car pulls up and screeches to a halt, and I can see these three kids are in this vehicle with their dad. JUNIOR is in the front passenger's seat, and the look on his face says, "You're gonna get it." The driver rolls down his window, and looks right at me:
"Hey, were you here yesterday pulling knives?"
I'm not sure what to do, so I don't say anything.
"Do you know what I'm gonna do if I find out that was you? I'm gonna come to your house and cut both your arms off, and I don't give a fuck about your parents either!"
I know I've really stepped in it this time, and I'm realizing that this kid really likes going out and picking fights with other people, and then getting his dad to fight his battles for him. I realize there's no point in trying to explain to this dude that I was just trying to make his kid leave me alone, and that I never really had any intention of hurting anybody. But then he says to me:
"I want you to know that I really hate violence, and I don't really want to hurt you. but, don't ever do that again. these are my kids: I made 'em."
Then he drives off, and I realize that that was a close one. Only, I'm not out of the woods yet; TRAVIS knows these people, and he really dislikes them. The next thing I know he's giving them the finger. The car kicks into reverse, and I know that if this guy catches us, I'm in real big trouble. I immediately start to run for my life, telling TRAVIS how I'd really like to kill him. We find a place to hide, but I know that even though it was TRAVIS who gave them the finger, it's me he's going to take it out on. A couple of days later I'm with another friend, DAVID, and we're horsing around. I'm not wise enough to realize that I shouldn't be anywhere in this particular neighbourhood and, once again, the black car comes along, and spots me. I make a mad dash the other way, and, DAVID quickly realizes that this car is chasing me; so, he does the same. DAVID makes it to a neighbour's house, and I duck into the cemetary. Later on, when TRAVIS hears what's going on, he thinks we should really show this guy what's what. So, I make the really wise decision of gathering up a bunch of chestnuts that are still in their cocoons, and toss them into the front seat of his car.
"Here. I hope you sit on these."
By this time, everybody knows that he's got it in for me, which probably saves my life. He knows that if I do wind up dead, he's going to be the first one they investigate; but, from then on, I decide that if I ever get into a fight with anybody again, from now on, I'm gonna do it with my fists.
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GRUMPY THE DWARF
I've met a new friend. His nickname is GRUMPY THE DWARF. He's a little eccentric, but he plays congas and likes to jam. He has me over to his place up on the west side of town. He has some interesting stories to tell, but whenever I ask what he does for a living he acts like it's a big secret, telling me that that is a very personal question. He also happens to be a bit of a perv, as I later find out. There is a number of women who hate him: I even know a couple who find him to be scary. I feel bad for him whenever I hear people knock him though, because he's always nice to me, and he likes to know that I'm feeding myself.
We're sitting outside of the local coffee shop, and a car drives by. The driver slows down, and points his finger at my friend, yelling, "Hey, scumbag. I want to talk to you!" My friend goes inside because he knows this guy means business. The fellow parks his car, and follows GRUMPY up to the bar. He's furious. He goes right up to him and accuses him of hitting on his teenage daughter.
"You were hitting on my daughter!"
"No, it wasn't me."
"Fuck you, you're a pedophile! You made advances towards my daughter. She's 17!"
Pandemonium breaks out, as the irate father proceeds to punch my friend in the face, one hit after another. GRUMPY starts panicking, and tries to run away, realizing he can't weasel his way out of this one. It's obvious that this bloke really has it in for him; he's in such a frenzy that he grabs a bar stool, and throws it at GRUMPY, missing his head by inches.
"You're a pedophile!"
Finally, me and my friend MARTY step in and tell the guy this has to stop, or we'll have to call the cops; but the two ladies behind the bar have no intention of assisting at all. As far as they're concerned, the chickens are coming home to roost. It turns out that GRUMPY was sleeping with this guy's wife, and he decided to see if he could also get a little action with his daughter as well. My friend who owns the coffee shop finds the whole incident to be quite funny, and isn't remotely worried about the damages to his place. He says the comedy is worth the price of a broken barstool.
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THE STORY BEHIND THE ROAMING ORGY
It's late spring of '91, and I'm sharing an apartment with JIMMY and LISA. JIMMY'S a fun guy to hang with, as he is also a musician, and a soundman, but his girlfriend is a bit of a cow, to say the least: anytime she's mad at him, she takes it out on me. They fight all the time, but he tells me she's great in bed, so they keep living together. He really likes to get loaded and screw her brains out, which is fair enough, but sometimes it gets out of control. He's not a violent drunk at all: just a bit of a slob. One time I hear both of them screaming. I can hear him screaming at her, and how she doesn't take care of him; she's screaming at me to bring her a bucket and a cloth, because he's vomited all over their bed. One night an ex-girlfriend of mine named DIANE is over visiting: she's also friends with LISA. I usually stay up late on my days off, as I work graveyard at the nearby 7-11. At about 2:00am, she follows the two of them into their bedroom, and doesn't come out until around 6:00 am. I don't say anything as she leaves, but I can hear JIMMY and LISA arguing, and I know what it's about. She's furious with him for penetrating another woman, even though it was her idea. She's crying up a storm, and he's yelling, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I thought you wanted me to!"
Finally, the time comes where she decides to move out: which is just fine with me, as she's horribly rude a huge percentage of the time. She comes back over to the apartment from time to time, unaware that he's been bringing home other girls and fucking them as well. The thing for me that gets awkward is that I know all these women from high school. It doesn't register with me right away what he's doing, but I soon figure it out. He's scoring as much pussy as he can, and he's not remotely concerned about the consequences. The first girl to come over is MELANY. At first I assume that she's his new girlfriend. Then he brings home TANYA, and does her, never mentioning the other two broads that he's also banging. A third girl named SARA is in the picture, only briefly; which is too bad for him, because even I think she's gorgeous. I'm jamming in a band called HOB NOB at the time, with a friend named IAIN. We go over to my apartment to grab my amplifier, and, as soon as we walk into the door we see JIMMY and TANYA having sex in his bedroom with the door wide open. It gets worse from here.
One night I get woken up at about 2:30 in the morning. I can hear a voice in my hallway, belting out the lyrics to a song called "WE'RE HERE FOR A GOOD TIME" by Trooper. I go out to see what the hell is going on, and he's brought home another girl: only this one is new, and she looks awfully young. They spend the whole weekend screwing, moving around to every room in the house (including mine when I'm not home). They even enjoy each other's company WHILE I'M IN THE SAME ROOM. Sunday night rolls around, and he's exhausted from the ordeal. He's tired, and needs to go to sleep because he has to work in the morning. She still wants to go, and starts screaming at the top of her lungs about how he's not fucking her: and she's loud. She starts in on me that she wants me to have sex with her: "Will you fuck me IAN?" that sort of thing. I know the neighbours can hear this, and I tell JIMMY, "For God's sake man, put it in her mouth if you have to. The neighbours will complain." One night he's doing her, and he's drunk as usual. He gets her to make wild noises, loud ones, about how she likes the way he fucks.
"Yes, fuck me! Your dick is so huge!" stuff like that. The neighbours start pounding on the wall, so I go out into the hallway to tell those two to be quiet. He says to me, "It's okay, it's just me with SARA." Her name was actually AMANDA. She stays with us for the month. In the time we get to know her I find out from her mother that she's actually a 15 year old runaway that likes meeting guys in the bar, and shacking up. What I also accidentally find out later, one day while I'm coming home, is that she has also been bringing home strangers, and having sex with them for money, while JIMMY and I are elsewhere. I still remember the time I was sitting in my dining room, listening to a STANLEY CLARKE record, while the two of them are watching football in the living room, right next to me. I go over to check what's on the TV, and I notice she's got his cock in her hand. She was giving him a blowjob right there while I was just a few feet away, totally indifferent to whether or not I would notice.
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MY BUDDY KEN
I'm in the Eighth Grade. My new friend KEN is a bit of a rough character, but he's a good guy. He doesn't take any shit from anybody, and he makes a point of telling me that the other classmates are gay.
"You know that kid named DEVON: the one with the poofy blonde hair. He's a fag for sure. You can tell by looking at him."
He likes for us to go to the shopping mall downtown, so we can deliberately get under the skin of the security guard by loitering, and sitting places where we shouldn't. One day at school, a kid named NEIL makes the mistake of coming up to my friend, and scribbling on his arm with a pen, before class starts. KEN throws NEIL up against the door and kicks him 5 or 6 times in the shins, dropping him to the floor. After that, people make a point of leaving him alone: which I quite like, because it means they leave me alone. We like to go into the underground tunnels that take the creek down to the river, thinking it's a great adventure. That is, until we come to a sight that is quite gruesome. We find the carcass of a dog that is hanging from the ceiling. It's real dark down there, but I clue in right away that somebody, either an individual or a group of people, took real pleasure in torturing this poor animal to death, stringing it up from the tunnel's ceiling, and leaving it there. KEN tells me not to breathe in, and we both get out of there as fast as we can. We never go back.
He lives in an apartment downtown with his older brother who works to support both of them. KEN can live with his brother as long as he stays in school, which he does begrudgingly. He would rather drop out, and do something enjoyable with his time, as he can't deal with all the morons: both teachers and students. But his brother is in charge, and it's the only family he has. We hang out at his place, and even though we're both underage, he offers me a beer, telling me that his brother won't mind, as long as we don't do anything stupid to piss him off. By this time however, I've sworn off drugs and alcohol, because my mother is a weekend alcoholic; she drinks every weekend, and can't help but take out her hatred of my father towards me. I have to endure a lot of verbal abuse when I'm at home, and it leaves an impact on me: I grow up with the idea that I'm never going to be good enough for anybody. There is a fair amount of alcoholism in my family, and I know from everybody else's behaviour, that there is a correlation between how much you drink, and how much of an asshole you become. So I decide at an early age that I don't want to spend my life getting loaded.
We shoot the shit, and the topic of fags always comes up. He detests every one of them. I relay a story to him about the time I was at CAMP CHIMO, and how one of the camp councilors, named LARRY, starts to fondle my leg by playing footsie with me, while we are in the whirlpool. I don't say anything, but I get out right away, and make a point of avoiding LARRY from then on.
I don't think anything of it when I tell this story to KEN, because by this time, after everything I've seen, I've come to the conclusion that this sort of thing is to be expected from people: that nothing should surprise me anymore, because it's typical. But KEN gets furious with me and starts screaming:
"DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL THAT FAG? WHERE IS HE? I WANT TO FIND THIS GUY AND BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH A TIRE IRON!"
Then I find out that the reason why he's so upset; he's torqued about the whole thing because he got sexually assaulted by a kid in his old school, who went by the name of DANNY. What happened was, KEN snuck out of P.E. class, and went back to his teacher's desk searching for the answers to the following math test: unaware that DANNY was following him. The kid sneaks up behind KEN, and sticks his hand down KEN's sweatpants, and starts to grab KEN'S genitals. KEN smiles, and gently places the guy's hand into the open drawer of the teacher's desk. While DANNY is unaware, he slams the drawer on this stupid bastard's fingers, breaking all of them. He then proceeds to beat the piss out of this cocksucker. The only thing that stopped him from killing this little creep was the fact that the teacher came along to see what all the noise was about, and broke up the fight. Sometimes there is justice in the world. Every once in a while you get what's coming to you. Do I feel sorry for DANNY? Not at all. He was a total piece of shit who got what he deserved. The moral of this story isn't that fags all deserve to be beaten up for their preferences, but rather, how I feel total and utter contempt for those who will not take "NO" for an answer.
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THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG "JACKIE'S BACK"
There's a number of kids in my elementary school who are completely psycho. One of them goes by the name of SERGIO. ROBBIE and I are both in Grade 1; he's in Grade 7. People dislike SERGIO right off the bat, as he's always causing trouble for somebody; he's always picking fights, and soon word gets around to stay away from him. He corners ROBBIE one day after school, and tells ROBBIE to get on his bicycle with him: he wants to take ROBBIE for a ride. ROBBIE doesn't want to do it, so SERGIO produces a knife and says he'll kill ROBBIE if he doesn't comply. ROBBIE does as he's told: it's easy to see why he's terrified, and sure enough, SERGIO wipes out. SERGIO walks away unscratched, but ROBBIE is left with a broken arm. Eventually SERGIO has to leave school; there's an incident involving another student, and he's expelled.
SERGIO lives in the U.S. for awhile, but then comes back to CANADA. My friend ROBERTO happens to be friends with SERGIO; he invites me over to SERGIO's house to learn this new thing called break-dancing. It's all the rage in the UNITED STATES, and pretty soon it's catching on up here as well. I like ROBERT, and even though I'm a little nervous about being around SERGIO, I go along. Much to my surprise, SERGIO comes across as a genuinely nice guy. He's really into this break-dancing stuff, and, he's actually quite good at it. I come to the realization that some people do change their ways, and that you sometimes have to give people a second chance. Too bad it doesn't stay that way.
Years later, SERGIO makes an appearance again, and this time, he fancies himself to be one of the MAFIA. He and his friends have a nasty habit of going around, looking to give a hard time to whomever they run into. He's got a mean streak, and he's fond of getting into fights with people who can't defend themselves: especially when his friends are there to participate. It doesn't help that he's wired on blow a good portion of the time. His lifelong ambition is to join the MAFIA and consume lots of marching powder, so he can show the world he's a bad ass dude... SERGIO fancies himself to be a nasty little mafioso.
There's a party out in the hills one night. It's close to graduation, and there's lots of kids there: many of whom are drinking. SERGIO and his crew show up, and, as usual, they're wired on cocaine. A fight breaks out, and SERGIO gets slapped upside the head. He goes after his opponent with a baseball bat: the guy takes the baseball bat away from SERGIO, and feeds it to him. SERGIO decides that he's really going to show everyone. He climbs into his car and plows right into the crowd of kids, dragging a few people under his vehicle, right through a bonfire. Nobody dies, but a few kids are seriously injured: some permanently. The next day, a couple of bikers go down to the precinct to bail SERGIO out of jail, because they want to show him how much they appreciate the kindness he's been showing everybody. The cops refuse to let SERGIO go with them, because it's obvious that if these guys get their hands on him, he's dead. One of the girls injured is the girlfriend of a local tough guy I happen to know. My friend happens to be in jail when this all happens, and sure enough, when SERGIO gets incarcerated, the tough guy corners him, and beats SERGIO to within an inch of his life. I tell my friend that it's a miracle that he didn't kill SERGIO because, if he had, he'd still be in jail. Eventually, SERGIO is released, and the people at CANADA CUSTOMS and IMMIGRATION decide that he has to go; so, SERGIO gets deported on the grounds that he's both a landed immigrant and a predicate felon.
If you happen to be a parent, it's a good idea to teach your kids not to make enemies with their neighbours; in this day and age, it doesn't pay to be an asshole. You never know when someone might decide to mail you anthrax.
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WHY THEY USED TO CALL ME REPO
I'm in junior high school, and I've just started to learn how to play the bass. I work hard, and my music teacher has taken quite a liking to me. I don't have a lot of skill on the instrument, but I practice my assignments, and after a short while, I make some progress. The other kids are amused that I can play "BARNEY MILLER". One day I play this riff, and someone tells me it's the theme to the movie "REPOMAN". So, I end up with not one, but two nicknames. My buddy KENNY calls me BARN while everybody else (including my English teacher) calls me REPO. My one friend, JAMIE, yells out REPO every time he spots me in the hall. He idolizes me because I'm a pretty decent bass player. He doesn't have a lot of friends, and he gets picked on a lot; but he's especially fond of me because I'm nicer to him than some of the others.
I start to notice that he's sporting bruises around his face. It turns into quite a common occurrence, and I wonder if he's getting hit by his parents. I start putting two and two together, hypothesizing that this is where he gets his low self esteem from and, sure enough, when I question him about it, he confides in me that his father has a habit of smacking him around. I decide that there's no way I'm going to put up with this, and I tell him that this is coming to an end, NOW. I explain to JAMIE that this is not his fault: that he's not a bad kid, and that his father has something to answer for. The first thing I do is I tell my mother about his predicament, and she agrees that we need to take him in, and give him a safe place to stay, until he has somewhere else to go. I report this to the councilors at school, and they go through the proper channels to see to it that the ministry gets involved, and that he is removed from his father's care. I'm uncertain whether his father ever had to face charges, but, JAMIE is eventually relocated to EDMONTON, and I never see him again. I hope he's doing okay.
It's around the time of EXPO '86, and our music class is down in the lower mainland, competing in the provincials. There is a recording studio on the site where you can go and cut a track of yourself singing a song of your choice. NELLS, JERRY, and I go in to record "EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE". The whole thing is a disaster; NELLS and JERRY are too kind to come out and say that there should be a law passed that would prohibit me from ever setting foot near a microphone again. My singing is so bad, that everyone who hears it breaks out into hysterics. People (including my mother) tell me that I should do the right thing, and stick to the bass: that would be the smart thing to do. But, I have this urge to be like STING: he is my idol. Still, I have to say that I think my persistence did pay off in the long run. I'm actually an okay singer today; I now get lots of compliments for my vocals from quite a few people, and, I think I'm still improving. Learn to believe in yourself, even if there are those who want to tear you down. Don't ever give up.
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THE CLOTHING STORE GIRL
So, I've just got back to Canada from studying music at Berklee College of Music, in Boston, MA; I'm 19 years old, and I'm living in Kamloops again. TREVOR is going to college, and MITCHEL has a job working at Elk's, which is located in the mall downtown. I've got this idea in my head that TREVOR, MITCHEL, and I are going to be a band: we're going to write songs, record them, go out on the road, and become famous. We have some interesting jams, but soon it becomes clear that MITCHEL isn't very interested in the songs I'm writing, and I find his songs boring as well. I'm totally envious of MITCHEL though, because he's going out with CAROL, the manager of Elk's; she's gorgeous, and she really likes to get it on with him: especially AT WORK. The other employees at the store are often left alone to fend for themselves as the two of them go off to the back and fuck like mink. Nobody says anything to anybody, since CAROL is the boss, but everybody knows exactly what's going on. It gets so that we often have to cut our rehearsals short, because she needs servicing. MITCHEL finally decides that he's had enough of her attitude, and he dumps her, which leaves her devastated, but I can't help but be green with envy. Some guys have all the luck.
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PAM MAXWELL'S DUNGEON
I'm four years old, and I am an only child. My mother is raising me as a single mom: she works a full time job at the hospital as a secretary; and, like most single parents, she needs to find somebody to look after her kid. She brings me to a woman who goes by the name of PAM MAXWELL, who is running a daycare without a license. At the time, I have no idea that this is illegal, but it doesn't take long before I learn that this woman is bad news.
PAM has four children of her own: KELLY (10), MONICA(7), RINI(6), and RYAN (who is just an infant). Right off the bat, RINI makes a point of hating me. From time to time, there are other children in the house, but he likes to single me out. KELLY and MONICA are both nice enough; and RYAN is just a toddler, but RINI has it in for me, and he makes a point of telling me so. Looking back, I wonder if it might be because he thinks I'm taking his mother away from him. The first time I get hurt, both RINI and I are in the back yard, and we're sitting in this little fort we made. The fort is made out of cinder blocks, and one of them falls, and lands on my head. I start to cry, and I'm bleeding. PAM comes to the back to see what all the racket is about, and I tell her that I'm injured. She simply tells me not to make so much noise, and she goes inside: I pick up on her indifference right away. Thankfully, she has an elderly fellow working for her by the name of HERBERT, who tends to my bleeding forehead. HERBERT is responsible for doing all the cooking and cleaning, and tending to all the babysitting chores. He does all the work for PAM, and he is actually a fairly nice man. There are times when he is up to his eyeballs in kids, but I'm more fond of him than anybody.
One morning, I'm sitting in the living room with her four children, and I can hear her screaming at the top of her lungs. I can't remember what she's yelling about, but I see her come out of the bathroom, and she is totally naked, with a towel wrapped around her head. I point out that she's not supposed to be naked in front of me, and KELLY tells me that there's nothing wrong with being naked. I notice as he's saying this to me, that he is making a point of looking away from her. There is another morning where KELLY, MONICA, and RINI are away at school, and I am watching television in the living room by myself. PAM is still in bed, and she calls me into her bedroom: I go in to see what she wants. She tells me to get into bed with her, so I climb on top of the covers; but, I immediately discover that this is not the same as cuddling up to my mom, and I get out of there as quickly as I can. I'm relieved that she's too out of it to bother with me, and I make a point of staying quiet, because I know that the more she sleeps, the better off I will be.
RINI is relentless: his antagonism towards me is 'round the clock, and the only one who seems to notice is HERBERT. When I tell PAM that RINI is always trying to hurt me, her response to me is, "Don't be a tattle-tale." She's also willing to get physical, although it only happens a couple of times. But RINI knows that I'm scared of his mother, and he makes a point of using this against me. He hands me a kitchen knife, and tells me to go stab RYAN. I tell him I don't want to, but he tells me that if I don't do as he says, he'll sick his mother on me. I'm already afraid of both of them enough as it is, and I don't want her putting her hands on me anymore. The next thing I know is I'm standing in the living room while RYAN is playing with his toys, and I'm terrified. HERBERT comes along and sees the knife in my hands. Luckily for both RYAN and me, he takes the knife away from me. But nobody hears me when I try to explain that it was actually RINI who tried to make me do this. From then on, PAM makes a point of locking me in her basement as soon as I arrive at her house from school. I get sent down there, and I am left down there. This goes on for quite some time. Sometimes I am lucky and MONICA comes down to play tag with me. Sometimes however, RINI comes down to pay me a visit. I can remember one time where MONICA quickly hides me in the closet, underneath some clothes: making sure that RINI can't find me. He asks where I am, and she tells him that I'm outside.
RINI has a fondness for standing at the top of the stairs and telling me that I'm going to be in this basement forever. "Your mother is never coming to find you," he says. He's downstairs with me one afternoon, and he says to me, "I'm going to cut your balls off."
I'm not sure what he's referring to, but I know it can't be any good. I'm glad that I'm sitting in the crib, so that he can't get his hands on me. Later on, I ask my mother what my balls are.
"What are my balls?"
"Don't say that word."
"But what does it mean? Does it mean my eyeballs?"
"I don't want you using that word I said."
"RINI says he's going to cut off my balls. What does RINI mean when he says he's going to cut off my balls?"
My mother realizes that this is not a place where she wants to be sending me, and she quickly finds me another daycare. A lady named MRS. NICKEL is kind enough to quickly take me in for a day, knowing that my mom is desperate to get me away from PAM. The new daycare that I get sent to is much better, and I am relieved to finally get away from PAM and RINI. I used to believe that my mother sent me to this woman as a punishment for something bad that I had done. As we are leaving PAM's house for the last time I say to my mother, "Please don't make me come here anymore. Whatever it is, I promise I won't ever do it again." My mother knows that sending me to this place was a mistake, and thankfully, I never have to see PAM ever again.
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GETTING HIT IN THE FAMILY JEWELS
I'm in elementary school. My time here begins quite unfriendly when I start out in the First Grade; I get bullied a lot by a number of people. It happens so frequently, both at school and in my neighbourhood, that it makes me weary of others; I recognize that, for some reason, I'm a target. It does two things to me though: one is, it forces me to learn to fight back; the other is, it makes me want to stick up for the underdog. I notice that there's a number of kids (boys and girls) who like hitting you in the testicles. In fact, it happens to me a couple of times; and I see it happen to others as well. There's this one girl who thinks she can get away with this anytime she pleases. The second time she does it to me though, I fight back by punching her as hard as I can in the stomach, and from then on she leaves me alone. But I'm not the only one this happens to. A girl by the name of JADA is always coming on to me. She likes to feel me up, which I find rather unpleasant. I'm in Grade 5, and she's in Grade 4, and already she acts like a total predator. I realize she's really bad news when she brags to me about how she just kicked JASON in the balls with her clogs, over a dispute as to who was first in line. She's really pleased with herself for doing this. I find the whole thing deplorable, because my mother has made a point of explaining how badly you can hurt someone by doing this sort of thing. There is one exception where it doesn't bother me though: this one kid named DANNY, who is always causing trouble for everybody. He and his brother are both a pain in the ass, and they get thumped on a regular basis. One time he got his head driven into the corner of a wall. I can remember telling him that he needs to change his behaviour, because he could've been killed; but, it seems the more furious he makes people, the happier he is.
One afternoon, after school has just let out, a girl named PATRICIA runs into the boys' washroom, just as I'm leaving. I'm confused as to why she's doing this, because I know she's not a trouble maker. DANNY immediately comes into the building, and he wants to know which way she went. "Where is she?" I have no idea what's going on, but I know something is up; so I pretend like I have no idea who he's talking about: "I don't know who you mean; I was just in the boys' washroom." Then, as he prepares to scour the downstairs looking for her, I say, "You better get going, or you're gonna miss your bus." The next day he comes to our classroom: he's looking for her, and it's obvious he wants to make trouble. KEVIN and I both refuse to let him in. Later it gets explained to me by somebody who witnessed the whole thing, that DANNY and PATRICIA got into a real nasty scrap, which he started. I know PATRICIA well enough to know that she wouldn't provoke a confrontation, but boy did she finish it. She had clobbered him real good: scratching, biting, clawing, eye gouging, smashing his head into the pole, and then kicking him about two or three times: doing what she had to do to get away from him, so she could find a quick place to hide. Normally I don't like it when people fight dirty, but in this case, I thought it was justified.
There is also a time, I can remember watching KELLY walking into his classroom, and DANNY is trailing behind. KELLY stops in his tracks for a second, and without turning around, delivers a mule kick to DANNY'S groin, dropping him to the floor. At the time I thought this one was funny, because he was a total menace to everybody, but later I got the full scoop as to why DANNY was always behaving like such a creep. Both DANNY and his brother had a horrible life at home; it came out years later that they had a step father who abused them repeatedly, both sexually, and physically. Sadly, it turns out that a lot of people who go out of their way tormenting others, are suffering abuse and/or neglect, from their parents or guardians. It's unfortunate how his circumstances made him believe that he had nothing to lose by menacing others. I'm sorry that in all that time he never understood that if he had just been respectful of his classmates, everybody would have been glad to be his friend.
My friend ROBBIE finds it quite comedic when somebody gets hit in the family jewels: he likes to joke about it all the time. We're in Grade 7, and one recess break he gets this great idea: he goes up to ROBERTO, the class clown, and says, "ROBERTO, go bag CRAIG in the balls." Of course, ROBERTO being the troublemaker that he is, says, "sure, why not." CRAIG is busy playing football, unaware of what's about to happen. He's about to score a touchdown, and, just at the moment when he's about to make his victory, ROBERTO runs up beside him and BLAMMO: right in the nards. What follows of course, is that CRAIG, ROBERTO, as well as a couple of other guys, go around all recess, trying to get even with one another, taking turns hitting each other in the crotch. All the while, ROBBIE is instigating this whole thing, telling people to go sack so and so, and watching what unfolds. Luckily for me, I manage to avoid this mess, and I make sure that I stay as far away as possible from these festivities: I don't need these fellows coming up to me and doing me any favours. Our teacher MR. MORGAN has to spend the whole next period trying to figure out how this all happened; he's mad as hell, and is determined to find out who is responsible.
I've seen a lot of fights over the years, and I notice that there's a huge number of folks out there who get a perverse satisfaction hitting somebody where it hurts. Seeing it so many times convinces me that it's actually a trend in our culture. For instance, whenever you see this happen in a movie, it's there deliberately because the audience finds it humorous to see an individual get it real good. People can be mean, man; I have my reasons why I'm paranoid.
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SO, WHAT IS THE SONG "SMELLY" ALL ABOUT?
We had a friend who was a bit of a greaseball when we were growing up, who went by the name of ANTHONY. He was a bit wierd. He didn't like to bathe, which meant he had a real awful smell to him. Anytime you got within a certain proximity to him, you almost choked from the stench. He would always come home late from a night of drinking (2:00 AM) and wake his family (his father always had to work in the morning) by blasting BRYAN ADAMS. "Jesus Christ, ANTHONY, I'm not going to RUN TO YOU, I have to work in the morning!" The other thing he would do was he would always ask me to steal one or two beer from my mother, as she liked to drink. When my mother heard he was asking me to do this, she warned me it would be on penalty of death.
My friend ROBBIE, who also knew ANTHONY had a crush on this girl when we were in elementary school. ANTHONY would bug ROBBIE by talking about how ROBBIE would phone her on the telephone: he made fun of ROB by saying he would call up this girl and say "How's it goin' eh?" Now, anytime I hear somebody say that, that is what I think of. I just thought I would share that with you.
So, here we are in ROBBIE'S back yard, and ROBBIE yells across the alleyway to our friend JOHN:
"You homo, what rhymes with JOHN?"
ANTHONY's response was, "Beer!" Then he says, "Aw, c'mon. JOHN's a party name."
ANTHONY was so fond of JOHN, that he one day gave JOHN a piledriver ON THE PAVEMENT, oblivious to the fact that he could have killed JOHN by doing this. But see, ANTHONY was the kind of guy who believed that professional wrestling was real life. ANTHONY was a total slob and, to this day, I don't think he has ever held a job. He survives by scrounging through garbage bins, looking for bottles and cans (he finds garbage preferable to people). But, he was still a funny guy; and, he was a big part of the inspiration for a song I wrote called "SMELLY".
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AN INSIDE JOB
I've just turned 30, and I have a new job, working as a labourer on a
leaky condo. The work is brutal, and it's the first time I've ever been
hired to do demolition. The boss and the crew like me, because I work
my ass off. The foreman's name is KEN and he's the toughest guy I've
ever met in my life. Word goes around the job site that KEN is
romancing one of the tenants in the building, which I hope isn't true,
because he has a wife, and I look up to him; but sure enough he tells
me he's been fucking this woman, and I just tell myself that I have no
right casting stones. The boss trusts both YURI (the other labourer)
and I so much that the whole crew like to take the afternoon off, to
go watch the peelers: they know that we'll continue working, with no
supervision. A couple of the guys on the job have criminal records: one
has ties to a local bike gang. It's no big deal at first, but then some
tools go missing. One morning YURI comes to me and he asks where all
the tools are. I go down to the lock-up with him to see what he's
talking about and, sure enough, everybody's tools are gone. We've been
robbed. The robbers also steal a car that belongs to one of the
tenants, and use it as a getaway vehicle. The whole thing smells of an
inside job, and everybody knows it. I notice that there was no forced
entry into the lock-up room: it looks as if the robbery was a set-up,
so that the guys who got "robbed" could file an insurance claim, and
score even better tools. I later make a comment that the "robbers"
should have stuck to growing their crops, and that's where I get warned
to keep my mouth shut, because they all like me, and they don't want to
have to deal with me. The owner's car is retrieved a few weeks later,
and all we can do is shrug it off. I finish the term of the contract,
and at the end of it I find work elsewhere. Anytime I meet someone who
likes to hang out with the criminal element, I make a point of staying
away from him. In this day and age, if you don't know that these people
are bad news, then you should have your head examined.
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HEY LET'S RAPE THIS GIRL
I'm just at the end of highschool: it's both a high time, and a low time for me. I've recently lost my Mom to cancer, and I'm devastated. But, before I graduate from Grade 12, I somehow also manage to win a scholarship to a place called BERKLEE COLLEGE OF MUSIC; it's in BOSTON, MA. All of a sudden I'm a big deal around town. There are people who normally wouldn't give me the time of day, who are all of a sudden making a big fuss over me. There's a lot of folks who are telling me that I'm destined to become famous and, I have to admit, that it does actually go to my head. My name is in several newspapers: this turns out to be my 15 minutes of fame. During my few weeks at my summer job, I get aquainted with a girl named STACI, who's real impressed that I'm actually going to attend this big time music school. We hang out a bit and, while everybody else warns me to stay away from her (because they all think she's a vulture), I can't help but be flattered by the fact that she thinks I'm the bomb. I don't actually get involved with her though, as I am still carrying a torch for my ex-girlfriend.
Late one night, STACI and I are sitting in a park, and three guys walk past us. They notice her right away, but fail to see me. One of these guys says to the other two, "Hey, let's rape this girl." I immediately get up and start walking towards the three of them, thinking that I'm going to have to fend them off while she gets away to safety. Right away they notice me coming at them; luckily for me, they take off and I don't have to fight any of them.
I enroll into music school, and I discover that, even though I do well grasping the theoretical side of my studies, I'm way out of my league when it comes to playing jazz. What I really want to do is to get good at writing pop songs, and have a career playiing rock 'n' roll. To my amazement, I find that the other students here really like me, even though I'm not remotely capable of holding a candle to any of them. I have been carrying around this belief with me my whole life that people are always going to dislike me; but, here I make friends with all sorts of people: a few of whom are going to appear on albums that I will later buy. One musical prodigy is a fellow buy the name of MATTHEW GARRISON. He's the same age as me, and already he's one of the best bass players in the UNITED STATES. His father is the late JIMMY GARRISON, who was the bass player for the legendary JOHN COLTRANE. MATTHEW is extremely kind to me: to the point where he allows me to come into his practice room, and give me all kinds of tips on how to improve. I manage to see him in the music library, and I get him to sit down and listen to "ADAGIO FOR STRINGS" by SAMUEL BARBER.
There are a couple of problems I have while attending BERKLEE though: the first one is that I have a fellow who makes a point of stalking me. He tries to introduce himself to me as another musician, but he's really a predator with a prediliction for young college boys. At first I'm not sure what his angle is, but I make a point of staying away from him, as I've learned over the years that you can't trust some people. The head of my dorm warns me that this man is notorious for trying to drug people who are unsuspecting, and then having his way with them while they're asleep. I'm tempted to beat the living shit out of this guy the next time I see him, knowing full well that I could easily do it; but, they warn me that this could lead to trouble with the cops.
Then there's my room-mate. He's into SATANISM, big time. This doesn't particularly scare me, but he's desperate to creep me out, so that he can have our dorm room all to himself. He tries all kinds of tactics to terrify me. He makes all kinds of threats, such as: how his drug dealer friends are going to get me; how he has an unregistered firearm, and how he can use it on me, and not get caught; how, if he kills me in my sleep, it won't be his fault at all, because he'll plead insanity... blah, blah, blah. There's already people here who have had dealings with this fellow, and some of them are worried that he might hurt me; even though, in actual fact, he really has no intention of doing any such thing. He's just trying to scare me into moving out. It gets to the point where I can see that this guy isn't going to stop being a slob, and I finally get out of there. I realize that there is no point in hating this guy over any of this though, and I forgive him. But by this time, I've had enough of this place. I know that there's no way I stand a chance making a go of it playing jazz, and I'm not interested in playing anymore classical music as a double bassist, so I leave music school and I never go back. I decide that if I'm going to achieve anything musically, it will have to be in popular music. I realize that all those years I spent dreaming of getting away from my surroundings was a mistake; you have to be able to be comfortable in your own skin, regardless of where your path takes you in life. It's later explained to me that I probably had no choice but to leave music school behind, as I was still going through a period of mourning over the loss of my mother.
Before I leave the U.S. I take a trip to NEW YORK to visit a friend named GLENNA. She's an amazing musician, and she knows tonnes of well-known jazz people. When I arrive in NEW YORK, she forgets I'm coming, and doesn't actually come to pick me up until 3:00 in the morning. While I wait for her I am amazed by the number of homeless people sleeping in the terminal. She finally arrives with her room-mate and another fellow, and they drive me back to her apartment. I notice that there is something wrong with the guy driving the car, and I later discover that he's coming down from being high off of cocaine. When I ask why on EARTH he does the stuff, GLENNA's room-mate tells me with total vitriol that it's a fun thing to do. She makes a point of explaining that cocaine doesn't automatically make you dangerous. Lots of people use, and they do it without hurting anybody. I make a point of keeping quiet around certain issues from then on, because one thing I know about myself, is that I'm really good at putting my foot in my mouth. I get introduced to a lady named TESS, unaware that she's married to BRANFORD MARSALIS, who is one of my idols. She's quite gracious, and devastatingly beautiful. She calls the house to invite me over to the recording session of BRANFORD's latest album; but LILLIAN, GLENNA's room-mate, doesn't want to wake me up to tell me about it. While I am there I also take in a gig by MINO CINELU: he's played with MILES DAVIS, WEATHER REPORT, and STING. The bass player is TRACY WORMWORTH, who has also played with STING, and is absolutely amazing. I leave the show totally stunned, knowing that I'll probably never see anything better, ever. At the end of my semester I return home, and try to start a band with my friends from highschool; I eventually spend the rest of my life struggling to make a go of it in songwriting. I desperately try to find a project that will succeed; and, even though I don't get famous, I do make friends, with whom I form some different bands. I get better as a musician, and a singer, and over time I manage to write some interesting little ditties, including a song called "HOW'S CARLOS".
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MUSIC TEACHER BLUES
It's the mid 90's, and I've told my friend JIM that I'm thinking of answering an ad for a job as a music teacher at a local music store. JIM works at another music store, and he and the owner JOHN W, ask me to come work for them instead. I take the job with JOHN, thinking that I'll be in good hands. It turns out to be a mistake.
The job pays enough that I no longer need government assistance, but, in a very short time, it's obvious that the owner can't compete with two other music stores, so he shuts 'er down (sort of). It's December '95, and he decides to hold a going out of business sale. He sells off as much remaining merchandise as he can, at quite a steal; and, he makes a point of NOT charging sales tax, so that he can avoid paying those taxes to the federal government. I ask if he's worried about them finding out, and I'm told that there's nothing to worry about: people don't like the government all that much. He decides that he's going to rent a space out of a bookstore for $150.00 a month, and that I'm going to continue working for him, not only as a guitar teacher, but as a salesman also. One night I'm at THE ACADEMY OF PERFORMING ARTS, waiting for my friend who also makes his living teaching. The owner of the store, WILF, asks me what I'm up to, now that my store has shut down.
When I tell him that I'm still working for JOHN W in a smaller location, he asks how much I'm making. I tell him that I make enough so that I don't require government assistance. He asks me how much I would like to make. I realize that he's making a substantial offer, as I know that all his teachers are bringing home around $1300.00 a month. I respond by saying that I can't walk out on JOHN W like that; I've known him for years, and he's one of my closest friends. This also turns out to be a mistake.
I get a phone call at the new store, and it's JOHN. He tells me that one of his drum students is coming by to purchase a cymbal for the amount of $10.00. He tells me that when I do sell the cymbal, I'm supposed to ring it into the cash register specifically as a lesson, so that he won't have to charge any tax. I reluctantly do as I'm told, but this makes me uncomfortable.
At the end of the month I inform him that I need to be paid because it has been a month since my last paycheck. He comes by, and I explain to him that, since I've been working six days a week, doing eight hour days, that after all my hours and teaching, the amount that he owes me comes to roughly $900.00. I don't bother to include overtime. I tell him that because he didn't make enough business to be able to afford me that amount of money, that I'm only going to ask for $700.00 instead: that this in fact, is how much I care for him. Another mistake.
I make an even bigger mistake, by offering to pay the rent on his store, if he'll let me keep the money from the students: the logic being that whatever I sell for him will go into his pocket. He's mad at me though, because I had to take a gig out of town for a week, to make enough money to cover my rent at home, even though he was the one who told me to cut my hours by at least half. He doesn't factor in that I'll need to find an alternative source of income, as I can't live off of less than $500.00 a month. Business drops down to nothing, and I have to take out an i.o.u. for $350.00. I've never owed him this much before. I'm in a real predicament, because I've made a commitment to pay his rent for him, so, I borrow another $150.00 to cover the rent, with the intention of paying it back. Then I get another phone call:
"How much do you owe me?" he asks me. I tell JOHN how much I owe...
"Do you mean to tell me that you owe me $500.00, and you have no
way of paying it back? YOU GET MY FUCKING MONEY, AND YOU GET IT FUCKING
FAST!"
"You're telling me that you won't let me make payments on this?"
"That's right!"
"Wait a minute JOHN, I've been a pretty devoted friend. I've made quite a few sacrifices for you."
"Ask me if I care. You just get my money, and you get it fucking fast!"
"But I don't even have an income at the moment. How do I come up with all of it if you don't let me make payments?"
"You've got problems?! You've got problems?! I don't care if you've
got problems. Everybody's got problems! I have a mortgage payment! I
have a bill from SEAR'S!"
"Yes, but you're forgetting that the reason I'm having a problem, is that I tried to take on your problems."
"That's your problem! You get my fucking money, and you get it fucking fast, or you'll be playing music with broken fingers!"
I'm in a real tight position now. I know him well enough to know, that if I do have to fight him, he'll use a weapon, if that's what it takes. Everybody warns me that I've got to settle this; there's no doubt in anybody's mind that he's known for being a sociopath. I have to make a distinction here, because JOHN W didn't threaten to beat me up: he threatened me with an act of torture; I don't bother to tell the police about this, because I can't see them being bothered enough to help me; even though, technically, it's extortion. My uncle sends me the money, and I pay JOHN's wife. She makes no argument that I'm not trying to get out of paying them, and it's the last time I speak to either of them. I later ask another uncle of mine who happens to be an accountant, if the times JOHN W neglected to charge sales tax on the items he was selling in his store mattered or not. He assures me that if the taxman ever gets wind of this, it would result in an audit that cost JOHN thousands of dollars. I make a mental note of this, and decide that if JOHN W even speaks to me again, ever, I'll let my broken fingers do the walking.
Metal up your ass, JOHN. Slivers up your dink.
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MOVING FURNITURE FOR THE FUN OF IT
It's winter of 1990, and I've started working as a dispatcher in a moving company. The hours are way too long, and because all of us are taken on as management, the boss is able to weasel his way out of paying any overtime. I'm there everyday, my shift lasting anywhere from 14 to 18 hours. I finally decide that this is for the birds, and give notice. The boss is desperate to keep me on, as I have good communication skills, I'm reliable, trustworthy, and, most importantly, I'm obedient. But I can't take more than a month of this place, with this wierdo swearing at me all the time while I'm trying to do my work. The other employees are fed up as well, but they choose to stick it out, because it can be tough finding a job. The boss manages to get loads of workers in off the street. We get all kinds of people going through the office. They all work their asses off for $5.00 an hour, because he pays out cash at the end of the day. Lots of these guys are on the dole, and they don't declare their little bit of extra income, so it never gets reported. They're desperate for whatever money they can get their hands on, because liquor is expensive. There's lots of work available - especially at the end of the month. There's no shortage of swampers.
There's a dispute at one of the jobs between a fellow named KIM (who is somebody you do not want to mess with), and another little rodent who doesn't think he has to take orders from anybody. The guy tells me that KIM better watch it, or else! I'm quick to point out that KIM could easily put him in the hospital, and he tells me that all he has to do is get the HELLS ANGELS after him. I decide right there that this little maggot isn't man enough to fight his own battles, and I no longer have any time for him. He doesn't last long, and I don't miss him when he's gone.
One of the mechanics in the company has a wife who doesn't believe he's actually at work. She's convinced that, a) he's either out drinking, or, b) that he's messing around with another woman. She makes a point of phoning the office all hours of the day, and she's quite a pain in the ass. She doesn't believe that he's out in the shop working. I tell her, "I've got work to do: it's not up to me to spy on your husband for you. If you're really worried about it, go and hire yourself a private investigator."
The head dispatcher, who goes by SYLVAIN, does mess around on his wife though, which I find out about later. SYLVAIN isn't the only guy I've wound up working with over the years who cheats on his wife - not by a long shot. The fact is that I quite like him, as I find myself learning all kinds of things from him. He makes a point of telling me that when it comes to sex, he always makes sure to please his woman: that he in fact never fails. He says the trick to doing this, is to put your woman first; he knows from first hand experience that it really pays off to do so. He gets quite a lot of phone calls, and he always wants to know who it is before he takes it. For some reason it always seems to make him nervous: at first I don't know why he doesn't like being this popular. But, then he confides in me that he did a move awhile back, and at the end of the job, he managed to fuck this woman's brains out, BIGTIME. Now he has this dilema, because this woman is obsessed with him, and she doesn't want to leave him alone. She phones all the time, wondering when she's going to see him, and she's not going away. She's made up her mind that she's in love with him, and she's convinced herself that it's only a matter of time before he decides to leave his wife, so he can be with her. I've seen his wife, and she's drop dead gorgeous. So I don't need to be told that he has no intention of getting a divorce. He likes taking me for rides in his car, so he can go around and ogle all the hookers downtown. I'm sure his wife has no idea what he's up to; but, I keep my mouth shut, even though for me this is disappointing. I know that it's really none of my business.
You'd think I would learn my lesson, but many years later, around 2000, I take another job as a swamper, this time for a real battleaxe named WENDY. The first driver I get to work with is a bit of a character. He hates working for her too, but he puts up with it because he's got a criminal record, and realizes his job prospects are minimal. During a move we take a detour, as he's anxious to make a quick stop. We crash our way down this back alley, where he meets up with these two guys in a sports car. He explains to me that he just wants to score some weed, which doesn't matter to me one way or another; but, I later find out that it's really crack. I don't say anything: it's none of my concern, but I tell him that I want no part of it. I'm not overly fond of crackheads, and ultimately, all I want is to get away from these people. WENDY is an extremely toxic personality, and she knows I'm desperate to stay off of welfare. She has me over a barrell: working the exact same hours, for the exact same money, as the last moving pirate that I had to work for. In fact, it turns out that she learned everything she knows from my previous employer. I quickly find out that not only is she vile, she is also quite dishonest, and exploitative. I'm not surprised in the least to learn that she has ties to organized crime. She also likes to pay her employees cash, so that she can avoid taking deductions, and she docks my already meager paycheck, if I happen to drop something. She has no problem screaming in my face, and I endure more than my fair share of verbal abuse from her. Finally, I tell her that if she doesn't leave me alone, the feds are gonna get an earful.
I start to swamp for a guy named JOHNNY, who also knows WENDY. He underpays me as well, but he's much easier to be around, so I stick it out with him hoping something better will come along. His operation is small, and his main source of income is relocating Chinese immigrants down to the UNITED STATES. I take a couple of trips with him down to California and, even though the drive is long, I love seeing San Francisco. One time we arrive at the border, and the U.S. Customs people tell us to go inside. This doesn't usually happen, and JOHNNY is a little bit nervous, wondering if we'll have to unload our truck, so they can search the contents. We quietly wait inside, and a middle-aged couple, roughly in their fifties, walk in. Their trailer is parked outside, and I realize that there's other travellers who are being randomly told to come in as well. The old fellow specifically starts in on one of the customs officers, who happens to be way in the back, quietly enjoying his lunch:
"I see you're having your lunch there Charlie. Keeping busy?"
"No, not too bad."
"You doing any fishing these days?"
"Not that much."
"Been too busy, huh? We've been pretty busy too. We were wanting to take the grandkids to the go-cart races, and maybe do a little mini-golf, but we haven't had much time. How about you Charlie: doing any golf?"
"No, not too much."
I can't help but notice that this particular fellow is carrying on with this one customs official, as if he were ordering fast food at BURGER KING. I make a note of all this, for the simple fact that I know, that when you go through the border, it's a real good idea to speak when you're spoken to. Then the customs agent gets up, and treks over to the counter.
"Let me see what I can do for you."
He immediately checks off the driver's paperwork, and, without further adieu, sends him and the woman he's with on their way. One of the other officers catches me taking all this in, and she quickly asks me if I'VE ever been arrested: to which I answer that I never have. JOHNNY and I are also sent on our way. I always wonder anytime I'm being grilled real heavy by a border official if he's giving me a hard time just so he can make it look like he's doing what he's really supposed to be doing. It's common knowledge that these people are notorious for being pricks; even though it's obvious you haven't done anything wrong. But, there's also a lot of people who somehow or other manage to get across the border unnoticed, with all sorts of goodies in their vehicle, and I sometimes wonder if it's not by accident. Just a thought.
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IT'S MY WORLD TOO (AND YOURS)
I once heard WYNTON MARSALIS say these words: "I don't think White people have any business playing jazz." I also remember a time when he made other remarks, saying rather explicitly that Sting had no right hiring Black jazz musicians to play music with him, on the grounds that STING is a White Pop/Rock musician. I find it interesting that WYNTON would want to perpetuate the exact same Calvinistic, racist elitism, that has plagued our world for centuries. His comments basically state, that there SHOULD, in fact, be a set of rules for you, and a different set of rules for me. I have to say, that I am definitely NOT anti-WYNTON. To this day, I still love the way he plays classical music; but, I know that there's a lot of jazz musicians who strongly disagree with his views. WYNTON MARSALIS isn't the only person I've heard say such drivel though. I have an album where comedian GEORGE CARLIN says, "White people got no right to play the Blues, ever!" It's funny that CARLIN would also say this, as I've always considered him to be the NOAM CHOMSKY of comedy. If you talk to people like BUDDY GUY, OSCAR PETERSON, BRANFORD MARSALIS, B.B. KING, GEORGE TAYLOR, ALBERT COLLINS, STANLEY CLARKE, VICTOR WOOTEN, DOUG WIMBISH, T.M. STEVENS, HERBIE HANCOCK and WAYNE SHORTER, every one of them will tell you that the colour of your skin has nothing to do with how good your music is. I remember when I was living in the Caribbean, and all the Rastas wanted to be my friend, because they liked the fact that I knew songs by BOB MARLEY, PETER TOSH, and DENNIS BROWN. None of them cared what I looked like.
I remember seeing a video clip from the 50's, where an angry little fellow was smashing LP records, and talking about how he hated this new music, called Rock'n'roll. His message was basically that, "This 'Nigger' music is the music of the Devil; and, I hate the people who make it. I will never sell it in my store." The thing we all have to remember is not the feeble display of hatred, and bigotry that came out of this Nazi; but rather, the fact, that this pathetic little worm failed in the end. I don't need to be told that there's more than just him spewing this kind of racist tripe; but, the fact is, that in the end, the vast majority OF THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD did not join him. On the contrary, people from all over, from all walks of life said, "No, we don't hate Black music, WE LOVE IT! We love CHUCK BERRY, LITTLE RICHARD, OTIS REDDING, JAMES BROWN, BO DIDDLEY, FATS DOMINO, MARVIN GAYE, ARETHA FRANKLIN, STEVIE WONDER, SAM COOKE, B.B. KING, MUDDY WATERS, HOWLIN' WOLF, ALBERT KING, T-BONE WALKER and JIMI HENDRIX." This music became huge; and it will continue to be huge for generations to come. All the famous musicians from "The British Invasion" chose blues music, out of devotion for the music AND the people who created it. It was their way of saying, "This is how much I admire you. I could do anytihing I want with my time; but, you inspired me to do this." I've met musicians from England, Europe, Japan, China, South - East Asia, Mexico, South America, you name it: and, all these musicians loved Rhythm and Blues so much, they devoted their lives to learning how to play it. And that is why, the people who originally came up with the Blues, eventually won the war in the end. This music helped teach everybody, that we owe it to humankind to be good to our neighbour. It was just as influential as MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. in teaching people that racism and violence are wrong. The human rights issues that MARVIN GAYE, NINA SIMONE, SAM COOKE, STEVIE WONDER, TRACY CHAPMAN, PETER TOSH, BOB MARLEY, ALPHA BLONDY, LUCKY PETERSON, OTIS TAYLOR, and MUDDY WATERS all sing about, are issues that affect EVERY ONE of us; and that is the reason, in the end, why this music belongs to everybody.
I remember LITTLE RICHARD talking about how he used to think that PAT BOONE was stealing his glory by covering "TUTTI FRUTTI". He ultimately changed his mind though, because in the end, LITTLE RICHARD realised that PAT BOONE eventually helped LITTLE RICHARD's music to become even more popular. I don't have a problem with the fact that PAT BOONE is a very Caucasian individual, because he never pretended to be anything other than what he is. And furthermore, when he did choose to cover LITTLE RICHARD's song, it was his way of saying, "All these people who hate you for the colour of your skin do not speak for me." I actually give a lot of credit to PAT BOONE for making a lounge style album, where he was covering Heavy Metal songs. PAT BOONE knows quite well who his audience is; and, he knows exactly how they feel about Heavy Metal music. But, you have to realize that Pat Boone is making a real profound statement, when he sings the lyrics to a Heavy Metal song. It's his way of telling the conservatives, puritans and fundamentalists, that these Heavy Metal musicians are not the enemy. That's what you have to realise about the musicians in this world, even if you don't like the particular song they sing, they're doing something to make our world a better place.
Dedicated to PROFESSOR EARL STEWART. Regards.
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CRISPY BURRITO SYNDROME
It's around 1993-94, and I end up writing a song with JONATHON called "MY LITTLE FRIEND" and another song on my own called "CRISPY RED BURRITO." Both songs can be found on my album titled KING OF THE CASTLE. Here's the story behind "My Little Friend."
My friend/landlord DON has asked me if I know anybody who would be good to move in with us, and rent the other room upstairs. I tell him my guitar player DORIAN is splitting up with his girlfriend, and he needs a place to move to; so, I'll ask him.
ME: "Hey DORIAN, DON wants to know if you would like to rent the other room in his house. The rent is cheap, and the place is beautiful..."
DORIAN: "No, I don't think I can; mainly because I like to have my own space. I'm the sort of person who likes to be able to run around my house naked when I feel like it."
ME: "Well, I'll let DON know: he might still say yes."
So I tell DON, and his answer is, "No, there definitely won't be any of that. He may be proud of his little friend, but I don't want to be seeing it."
The thing is, when I showed the initial idea to JONATHON, I remember asking him if this was too twisted; but, he said the message is quite positive: "I'm not ashamed..." Jon once told me that when it comes to the one you love, the fact is, that certain people will just bring out special things in others. A funny thing about "MY LITTLE FRIEND" is, that whenever I hear this particular song, it reminds me of why I think it's a mistake for a woman to go and get breast implants. I mean, it's your body: do what you want with it. I personally don't need a woman to have huge knockers in order to find her attractive. If you happen to be fixated on size, then I'm not the right person for you. In the end, I think that the song says that you should only be yourself.
Then later on I wrote a song called "CRISPY RED BURRITO", which also has a demented story behind it. My friend was working at 7-11, and I went to say hello to him. He told me that he had a guy come in, open his tench coat, and flash him. The fellow said to my friend, "Life is a crispy red burrito."
So, I ended up writing a song called "CRISPY RED BURRITO." The fellow who plays drums on the song (a smart young chap who goes by the name DEVON) said that quite often, when we see people act up, or show off in some way, that it is really their way of exposing themselves. I tend to agree. I imagine that I'm as guilty of it as anybody. I'm pretty sure that my aim as a musician is strictly out of a desire to prove myself: even if I know that I'm only trying to prove myself to myself. One thing I can tell you is that I sure didn't stick with it for the money. There's all sorts of reasons to decide to become a musician, besides the fact that you love a certain music: you may want to get rich; you may want to score women; you may want to make your parents take notice of you; you may want to validate your life by becoming famous; or it might be as simple as wanting to be able to make folks like and admire you. None of these reasons is wrong; but the point is that, somewhere along the journey, you will hopefully discover that it is not only okay, but actually essential, and even necessary, to learn to believe in yourself. That's when you really win.
I once joked to a beautiful lady friend of mine one time, "My fat stomach isn't the only part of my body that gets extra large!" And, she actually blushed. Yes, it's true, I was being bad; and, it's probably evidence of Napoleon complex, or something. But, then I said to her right away, "Sometimes when a man is being a total pig in front of you, it's really his way of saying 'I find you beautiful'." Surprisingly, she agreed.
I want to leave you with one last thought, if you are ever kind enough to buy, and listen to my album "KING OF THE CASTLE": it is interesting that there's not one, but two songs on that record inspired by stories about people going around and showing off their genitals. Take that one home with you.
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MY FAVE MOVIES
My friend SEAN once asked me which "STAR WARS" movie is my favourite, and without a doubt, I have to say that, by far, it is "EMPIRE STRIKES BACK". I have seen it dozens of times, easily, and to me, it is every bit as good as the works of WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I don't really care for the subsequent "STAR WARS" films, but to this day, there are still so many things about this movie that I love, including: the story, the cinemetography, the music, but above all, the performances on screen.
I can't help but still be amazed at MARK HAMMIL's acting, especially when it comes to the scenes with YODA. The people who created YODA did an absolutely amazing job; but, to me, it is MARK HAMMIL who makes me believe that this puppet is really alive. When you watch the interaction between LUKE SKYWALKER and YODA, you forget that YODA is actually A PUPPET. Keep that in mind the next time you watch it. The chemistry between them is phenomenal, and he is actually able to convince the audience that his relationship with YODA is real. That, to me, is a real talent.
There is a reason that everybody loves HAN SOLO. All he wants to do is get out of there, but he can't bear to abandon his friends. He has to make sure his friends are okay, even though what he really wants to do is look out for his own hide. But that's the thing: the movie strikes a connection with all these fans, because it's really about saying that there is nothing more important than sticking by your friends. The thing that blows my mind about HARRISON FORD's acting in this movie (and in a couple others as well), is that it is so sincere, that I walk away believing that it is really him, and not just the character he plays, who would risk his life in order to save mine. That is why I believe the whole world wants to be his friend. It's also a big part of what this movie is about: SOLO makes the decision that his friends are more important than himself.
The thing is, that when I see these people act out these lines, I can't help but coming to the conclusion that they all really do care about one another. It's obvious in the story that SOLO loves PRINCESS LEIA; but, in the end, even though he frustrates her and all that, she comes to the realization that she really has no choice but to love him back. Out of all the men she could choose from, she picks him in the end, because he not only puts her first, he also loves her first. He demonstrates, through his determination to keep her safe from THE EMPIRE, that he is the only guy in the end who is capable of earning her admiration and trust. But, when I hear her say the words "I love you", I'm convinced she really means it; and, that is the impact that CARRIE FISHER's acting has on me.
The only other movie that has had this much impact on me is "THE ROAD WARRIOR" with MEL GIBSON. Here is what you have to remember about this one: here is this guy who has seen his family get murdered. Right away, the first thing we see is people are trying to kill him so they can steal his car. Then he runs into another person who also tries to steal his car. He witnesses a couple get brutally tortured, and when he brings the one survivor back home to safety, those people turn around and double cross him. Then, he starts to make his way, and the murderous thieves take him down, and this time they kill his dog. The real thing that inspires me about this movie, is that, no matter all the things that happen to MAX, in the end, he can still find it in himself to help others. And, all throughout the whole movie, I have no doubt that he really means it.
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STRAY KEN AND THE HAIRDRESSER FROM PERSIA
I'm 27, and I'm staying at my friend's house while he's away. I'm walking home one day, and I notice this kid who happens to be sitting on the sidewalk. I ask him if he has run away from home, and he tells me that he has. I remember how my friend ROBERT once explained to me that there are people who prey on kids who are on the street, and I say to myself that I want to help this kid while he still has a chance. His name is KEN, and since he has no place to stay, I tell him that he can crash on my couch for the night. I warn him not to steal anything, because that'll only get me into trouble. I take him down to DAIRY QUEEN, and I buy him something to eat and, luckily for me, he turns out to be the perfect house guest. The next day, I advise him to go to Social Services to get assistance, which he does; and I continue to go about my business, thinking I'll never see him again. But I run into him about half a year later, and he's doing well. He's found a job, he has a place to live, and he makes a point of thanking me for helping him. I'm glad I was able to.
There is another time when I'm walking home, and a fellow asks me where the highway is. It's winter, and it's dark, and he wants to hitch hike all the way to to CALGARY, so that he can try and find a job (as a hairdresser). I notice that he has an accent, so I ask where he came from originally; he tells me he's from IRAN. It turns out that he's a political refugee, and he has just arrived to CANADA, and he has no place to stay. So I decide to take him to the local coffee house, and I buy him a bowl of soup. Then we walk down to the hostel, where I buy him a room for the night. I tell him that he doesn't want to hitch a ride to CALGARY at this time of night, in this weather - that he's better off doing it in the morning. Before I leave him, he tries to give me a necklace for doing this for him; but I tell him to keep it, because he might need to sell it down the road.
My friend DAVE makes the noble attempt at helping a couple of girls get off of heroin, so that they can stop working the streets. It's no easy task, as being a prostitute is all they know. We find out the hard way that their dealers can get a hold of them even when they're in the psychiatric ward. One of them confides in me that she's been raped so many times, she doesn't care if it happens anymore. She has a young daughter, and she's HIV positive. They both manage to stay clean for awhile, then they fall back into their addictions. There is no point in warning them that what they do is terribly dangerous, as they've seen it all.
I won't try and pass myself off as someone who does this sort of thing all the time. I don't need anyone to tell me that it's impossible to save the whole world. However, I do know that I have a good heart, and even though I have a raunchy sense of humour, I try my best to get along with everybody. I consider myself to be a human being of compassion, and I wish that the rest of the world would stop shitting on those who are less fortunate. A lot of people who get caught up in the wrong circumstances have suffered from some form of abuse, either from family or strangers. I also know how this feels; but, luckily for me, I never took to using. People who tell me that I don't know what I'm missing fail to take into account that addiction never brought any real happiness to anybody. One thing that I do know is that there's somebody in a third world country right now, who would love the chance to live in NORTH AMERICA in hopes of having a safer, and healthier place to live. I remember that I once told a police officer, out of depression over all the bad things that were going on, that there was a better world on the other side. He responded by telling me, "There's a healthy life right here." it turns out that he was right.
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TABLOID RAGS
I find these tabloid rags and TV shows that are masquerading as entertainment news to be absolutely loathsome, abysmal, and a total waste. You can't help but notice this garbage when you're in some checkout: it's right there in front of you in plain view. It's totally invasive and devoid of any decency, and these stalkers (who are otherwise known as the paparazzi) are going around
hounding certain famous people, to the point where people can't leave their homes anymore. For example:
I've noticed that pop star BRITTANY SPEARS has gotten a lot of coverage since day one. Here's some things these JOURNALISTS have been so noble as to bring to our attention:
1.) Let's start by talking about her breast size. We won't mention the fact that since she's young, she's probably still growing. Instead, while we're at smearing the little tramp, why don't we leave the public with the impression that she has, in fact, had a breast job, regardless of whether or not it's true. We can have everybody gossiping about this for months, and all these people can deride her, both in the press and in private. We won't talk about how everybody's "bigger is better" fetish has had everything to do with making millions of young women feel loads of pressure in getting plastic surgery; and, when they do, we can turn around and blame them for it, because after all, "it's your fault you're not good enough, for being born the whore that you are".
2.) Let's put her on trial for her personal life, especially her sex life. Let's ponder (in print and on TV) whether this eighteen-year old woman is still a virgin, even though it’s nobody’s business. We won't talk about how music stations such as MTV and MUCHMUSIC are reaping in millions of dollars in advertising revenue, as her sexually charged videos are in constant rotation. We won't talk about our own little voyeuristic perversions, or perish forbid, how old the rest of us are the first time we make love, but instead, while we're busy proving what a slut she is, we can sell some more copies of our fine publication, and at the same time, show how she is a really bad role model for our children, regardless of if it is at her expense or not.
3.) Let's talk about her drug habit, and how it must make her a real bad person. We'll take as many unflattering photos of her as possible; we'll print stories about how her trip into rehab means she must be crazy: "Look, now she's shaved her head, it must be a ploy to get our attention." No one seems to get that this is probably enough to drive anyone to drink, or make them crazy. Oh, but then again, it serves her right for being successful as a pop singer. Now that she's given us the flavour of the month music we wanted, we can all turn around, and this time really smear her, because we really do hate her for going to the top.
There's other examples of this kind of smear campaign. JESSICA SIMPSON's marriage troubles come to mind. "Hey, there's another tramp we can totally shred in print!" But I've noticed that this one has been quite a popular topic. It doesn't matter to me whether or not you like this woman's music. I for one don't care for it; at least BRITTANY made her millions honestly. But, I do know schlock when i see it. These people who've been making a fortune selling their magazines while making singers like BRITTANY SPEARS look bad should be ashamed of themselves. It's time the average dummy wakes up and boycotts this sort of voyeuristic, misogynistic trash. Maybe then these scoundrels will start printing magazines that are worth reading because they'll be forced to put some content into them.
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IT IS GOOD TO HAVE FRIENDS
It is good to have friends. I am down in the CARIBBEAN for the first time, and a woman I don't even know that well, named SARA, has brought a bed over to my house: she has left it for me, so that I don't have to sleep on the floor. There's a number of people on the island who have taken a liking to me, including a man named WHIT. He treats me like a younger brother, even though his soon-to-be ex-wife makes a point of coming on to me whenever he's around. He lets me use his brand new bass, and takes all of us out on trips around the islands on his sail boat. When it does come time to leave, I make sure to give him the small amplifier I bought, just as a way of saying thank you.
When I get back, everyone is glad to see me. DAVE lets me crash in his trailer for awhile, for free. Then RHYS lets me stay with him, never asking for any rent either. And then finally my friend ROB does the same for me. It is hard finding a stable job, and I try my hand at farm work for the summer, until I finally get settled in with my old buddy DON again (who has always treated me like a son).
When it comes time to move, I end up working at a real horrible moving company, to try and make ends meet (see "MOVING FURNITURE FOR THE FUN OF IT"). My friends NICOLE and PH (R.I.P.) open their home to me until I find my old comrade LEONARD, who puts me up, and then helps me make the down payment on a basement suite. I have just started working my new construction job, and I am finally getting back on my own two feet. LEONARD and I have always been close: we've both been there for each other, ever since we were fourteen years old. In fact, my mom used to look at LEONARD as another one of her sons. It is the least that I can do, to help him move, whenever he asks if I can help him. He ends up moving about three or four times, before he gets settled into his place in Washington State.
CAMERON has taken my girlfriend and I out, and bought us a whole bunch of dishes and groceries, so that we have what we need to get settled into our new place. It is his way of saying thank you to me, for the couple of times I pitched in to help him move when he was desperate. I have to comment on how, there have been some people who have been quite cruel; but, there have also been others who probably saved my life as well. It is never lost on me, that there will be times when you will need your friends to help you; and there will also be times when they need yours. Those are the times when you make a point of being there for the people who care enough about whether you're okay or not. This is good.
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DANCES WITH CUCUS
There once was a male stripper named Lucas,
Who drank until his face turned pukus mucus
And, he was so impressed with his own bulge, that he loved to indulge
in going around and showing off to everybody his cucus.
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BEAUTIFUL WIFE
I get a kick watching the way all these clowns be fighting over you
All of you bozos should know, that it's me that she loves the most.
For at a very early age, you only had to look in the mirror, and you knew
that there would be many, yes many men who would beg to be your slave.
Men who would drop down on their hands and knees and crawl butt-naked through miles of
broken glass, barbed wire, and tiny little razor sharp metal shavings,
for the chance to work up the courage, the nerve, the bravery,
just to share with you their deepest darkest cravings.
But you don't need their words:
You can tell just by the look on every face, that they will carry with them
as the fondest of memories for all time, knowing they got to spend five,
count 'em five minutes talking to a woman so fine.
Of course I get a kick watching the way these fools drool over you.
So do you.
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A YOUNG BUCK LIKE ME
I got myself a job
Lots of heavy lifting, and the work is real hard
I get to spend all day working in the Yard
Next to all of these crusty old farts
My foreman's name is Mitch
He's fond of telling me to my face, that I'm nothing but a punk ass bitch
He likes to assume that the only reason I ever picked up a guitar was in hopes
to one day strike it rich
Ah, but if the old man only knew, that a young buck like me
does know a thing or two about singing the blues
Yes, it is indeed true, that the very sight of you leaves me
barking and howling at the moon
I get the feeling that you enjoy it with the intention of leaving me confused
But if you think that I don't know what exactly it is that you are up to,
well then I'm afraid that I have some news
You old guys ain't the only ones who spent their youth paying your dues
For I too have been around, overworked, misused, and abused
It took many years for me to find my voice, but I have always had a groove.
In the end though, I have no axe to grind, for there's not that much that I need to prove
My friend once said, that no one knows how it feels to be me, until they try walking in my shoes
There are some things you will never learn, sitting at the desk inside some classroom
But when opportunity knocks, and it's the school of hard knocks
You gotta sometimes take your lumps, so that things that once seemed old
once again appear brand new
Sometimes life ain't fair, but in the end, you do what you gotta do.
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ONE OF THOSE DAYS
There's going to be days when it won't be fair: She'll accuse you of cheating when you didn't do it; The kids at school will make fun of you because you're different; He'll seem to really like you, but then when you see him, he'll be too shy to communicate his real feelings; Your favourite band in the world will break up; The government is going to pull another scam; Your boss will lay you off after all of your hard work, when in fact he owes you a raise; He's got the nerve to ask for a pre-nup; The Beatles will appear on Ed Sullivan, and dethrone you; He'll get to know you a little, and then go out with your best friend; She'll divorce you after twenty years of marriage, when all this time you thought things were fine; Someone less deserving than you got the big promotion; She won't sign the pre-nup; Your favourite pet will get sick and die; These things happen: it's going to be one of those days.
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THE GIRL THAT I CHASED AWAY
I'm sorry that I wasn't brave enough to just come out and tell you when I knew you, how wonderful you really are. I could not show my love for you back then, as I did not know how. What can I say: I was a stupid kid. But, you must also understand that it was never malicious intent. I was just that shy. Despite the fact that I am a nice guy deep down, MY luck with women over the years has been dreadful to say the least. Out of all the women that I did know, losing you is the wound that runs the deepest. It's just like the way my one song goes: "I would have spent the rest of my life with you, but I knew that I was not the one".
I fell in love with you at a very young age. I thought at the time that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. People told me you liked me, and it would have been enough for me had we been just friends, (as I really loved having you around). But, I had my mind made up that I wasn't good enough. I stayed away for two reasons: a) I was convinced that you were too good to be true, and b) I knew how hard it would have felt when the day came where you had to leave me.
Why do I have the need to tell you all of this now, when you probably don't even remotely give a shit: so that I can be at peace with it. I hope that I can be forgiven.
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LAWYERLAND
John Calvin must die, because my parents want to buy property in Heaven; and, they think that you can do it the same way you buy real estate: hoping that if they send money to Jesus they will be saved. But, they can't help it that they are afraid, everyone's afraid. That's why we live in Lawyerland.
What is the definition of a good lawyer: someone who knows how to lick your ear while they fuck you up the ass. So, don't worry if you actually go and do something really bad, because some big name lawyer will get you off, and they will lick your ear while they do it. And, when you finally do get off, and all your friends look at you and say, "So, you finally did learn how to suck cock after all." You can respond by saying, "Shut - up! It didn't taste that bad. He was a nice man."
I shouldn't be saying this, I'll probably get sued; but, there is no intelligence left in our new Global economy. And, this so called war on drugs, (which is really a war on marijuana), has everyone scared, when really, we owe it to people to let them choose for themselves. People all over know that marijuana is nowhere near as harmful as alcohol or tobacco, and that it is indeed a victimless crime. The penalty for it is way worse than the offense being committed; but, governments continue to wage war on marijuana because it is big business for the police, big business for organized crime, and it is definitely big business for lawyers, (which in the end, is the real reason marijuana is prohibited). The drug laws create the gangsters. Give the addicts their fix for free, so that women no longer have to get into a car with Robert Pickton. Final judgment shall be reserved for those who create the criminals.
The scientists in NASA are debating if there is any bacteria surviving under the polar ice caps on Mars. Well,they can debate all they want about the water left on Mars, because there sure as fuck isn't any water left here on Earth anymore, (at least none that you can drink). And, what there is left the lawyers are selling to us in plastic bottles. Plastic money, plastic food, plastic music, plastic bags, and new and improved plastic body parts. Pretty soon, there won't be any real people left either.
We need to realize that Marc Emery is not the enemy. Vanilla Ice, Milli Vanilli, and Barry Manilow are not the enemy. There are people on our planet who are starving, our world is being litigated away, and our children are being sold off to corporations. I am asking all of you fucking lawyers nicely: give us back the rain.
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A SONG TITLED MARTIAL ARTS IN THE HOSPITAL
Traditional JuJitsu is by definition, a system. It is also an art, but, there isn't as much humanity behind it, as say, what you find in arts like Judo or Aikido, (both arts are derived from two different styles of JuJitsu). JuJitsu, as a word, is a generic term to the people of Japan, (where it originally comes from). Traditional JuJitsu is a very effective fighting method: one that is comprehensive, (strikes, chokes, joint locks, etc), with many different schools to learn in. What it does not share so much, as with other arts (notably Judo, Aikido, Kendo, and Karate), is it doesn't typically focus on the goals of character building that the other styles try to achieve. JuJitsu is effective because it only focuses on one basic philosophy: capitalize on an opponent's weaknesses, and put their body mechanics, (i.e. their joints), past the point of breaking, so that they can no longer fight. The other styles try and focus on another way to force their opponent into submission, hopefully one that won't cripple you. This is the reason why the people of Japan pretty much made a vote to leave this system behind. The other arts proved to contribute more to the community on a Global level, because they teach the importance of compassion. The message they teach is one that says, "I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to. I can do it, if you leave me no choice, that all depends on you." Arts like Judo, Aikido, Kendo, and Karate choose the word opponent over enemy. You are not permitted to go out of your way to make enemies in a dojo. Such conduct will not be tolerated, and you will not be welcome there. These arts all have common ground, because there is an emphasis, as well as an understanding for the common link to higher values. All of the different schools of JuJitsu employ strategy, making them very good at adapting to the situation at hand, but it's only systematic. The distinguishing factor is an emphasis from these newer kinder arts: one that follows a code of ethics that says, "Do not force me to do something to you that I will hate myself for."
A lot of people think that what we see in the UFC is Mixed Martial Arts, (MMA); but, what it really is, is a mixture of combat systems, (mostly Brazilian JuJitsu and Muay Thai Kick Boxing). They are still arts, but they are systematic in the way they are used to break their opponent down. The reason there is a referee present is so that the contestants do NOT get hurt. Some people think that the sport we call MMA is too brutal; but, in actual fact, you take way more punishment in Boxing, (and even Professional Wrestling), than in the UFC. The art that we are commonly referring to as Brazilian JuJitsu, is really derived as much from Jigoro Kano's Kodokan Judo as it is from the form referred to as JuJitsu. Traditional JuJitsu was perfected by Samurai warriors. They are also the people who gave us the art of Kendo, which is based on their devotion to swordsmanship. The Japanese people of today practice Kendo with bamboo swords, so that they can safely exercise their appreciation of swords, without doing harm to their opponents. Being killed by a bamboo sword is not really a danger, but, the Japanese people perform it as a way of showing devotion to their swords: swords that are works of art. Their swordsmanship is an art. Interesting enough, legend has it that an unarmed combatant with no sword actually had an advantage over his opponent carrying steel. The sword is actually a handicap, because it's so heavy, it takes two hands to wield it. The fighter with no swords has an opponent at a disadvantage because they have two hands, as well as two feet to fight with. But, the reason the Samurai doesn't want discard his sword is because he is proud of how beautiful it is. He sees it as an extension of his own body.
Bruce Lee's art of Jeet Kune Do is proof that an art can be systematic, (as well as scientific even), but, still be an art by definition. The one thing necessary is that the goal is to teach people how to, as Lee puts it, "Express Yourself." Bruce Lee's art of Jeet Kune Do is comprehensive, (like JuJitsu). It actually does in fact draw from JuJitsu, (among other forms of Martial Arts). But, it's more of a philosophy, than a style. What he basically said to everybody was, too many people are obsessed with trying to master every possible way to destroy somebody. There isn't enough hours in a day to learn every conceivable way to break a man's ankle. If you are the kind of student who would ask me, "Teach me how to bite off a man's ear." then I would never accept you as my student, for you do not know the importance of honour being a requirement to be qualified to learn from me. If your only concern is to cripple, maim, and kill, you will never know the beauty that it takes to be me.
Ultimately, whatever you call your discipline, and whatever your level, there is more to developing a style than to simply provide techniques that cripple, maim, and kill. It has to be about more than just kill or be killed. If that was all that the people behind these fighting styles cared about, we wouldn't have a referee in most fighting sports today. I would much rather have these styles to witness, than watch us return to the Coliseum. Something to remember about Brazilian JuJitsu, (which some people say is too violent), is that the most common way to wear your opponent down is to take him to the ground, and hug him.
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STING'S ACTING CAREER
This rant isn't about the effect that the music of both The Police AND Sting have had on my life, (and music making). It's my assessment of Sting as an actor.
Brimstone And Treacle:
There were a couple of movies Sting made before he landed his role as Martin Taylor, (the lead role in the movie Brimstone And Treacle). The film features a solid cast of actors, and Sting gives a great performance as a really creepy guy. Basically, a girl named Patricia Bates catches Daddy getting it on in the office with his secretary. As she storms out, she is hit by a vehicle, and winds up in a coma. While she is in a comatose state, Martin comes along, wins over Mrs. Bates, and has no problem showing Mr. Bates, (the perv who can't keep his pants on), that he has absolutely no respect for him. The movie climaxes as Martin tries to have sex with Patricia, (he just can't help himself), while she is still comatose; but, when he does try to take the plunge, and she does awaken screaming, he knows that the deal has gone South. As Martin escapes, we see the girl's father (as he knows that he has literally been caught in front of his family), with his pants down. But, even scarier, is the fact that Martin bumps into an old geezer who embraces him like a little boy, (the man is huge). Martin knows that this man is not another potential victim, but rather someone more perverted and twisted than both he and Mr. Bates. As the two go walking off together, with the old man's arms around Martin, Martin Taylor knows he's about to get a taste of what it's like to be somebody's fetish. Sorry everybody, but for all of you who say that Sting has no talent as an actor, this movie is totally convincing that he's a really twisted bastard.
Dune:
This movie didn't do well at the Box Office, but, it has been later seen by many a home viewing audience. Sting's role is small, but essential to the story. There were a great number of people who were very unkind about the production. You can criticize any part of the movie, but one thing that cannot be disputed is that Sting is pretty much the only actor in the whole movie to show any passion. During his knife fight scene, my mother commented that he played the villain so well, that maybe he was as bad as the character he portrayed.
The Bride:
A remake of The Bride Of Frankenstien. Sting really craps out in this one because he's still trying to get roles onscreen to convince people like me, (who really do believe in him 100%), that he knows how to be a bad guy. His protrayal of Dr. Frankenstein comes across more as a classical music composer than as a mad scientist, (who wants to sexually dominate the Bride creature that he has created). Now if the Bride had been the predator, and he had been the prey/victim, that would have been really creepy AND effective.
He also had a couple of notable parts in both "Stormy Monday" as well as "Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels." Both good films that are worth seeing.
I have no ambitions to be on screen. I know how hard it is to do what they are doing.
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THE ART OF THE SNAKE
There is one thing that a snake does when it sleeps: it sleeps with its eyes open, because it has no eyelids. The time in a snake's life when it does sleep at length is when it is still in the egg. Snakes (as far as I know) use mostly their senses of taste and smell to navigate the world. They don't see or hear very well, however, they are attra cted to motion. Snakes, (particularly highly venomous snakes such as The Cobra, The Black Mamba from South Africa, and The Brown Snake from Australia - all members of the Elapidae family), are particularly edgy, and are quite often on the move. There are exceptions to when a snake feels that it has to be on the go. For instance: when they are swallowing and digesting their food, shedding their skin, mating, hiding in a safe place, or as mentioned, sleeping.
Now there are a couple of exceptions to venomous snakes always being on the go. One case is when a rattlesnake (a pit viper indigenous to North America) lays down to absorb heat from the hot pavement on a desert highway during a hot summer afternoon - something they like to do because they are cold blooded. Another is when a female is laying eggs (something they pretty much all do... Like I said, a snake likes to be on the go. Some snakes make a point of creating an incubated nest high up in a tree, so that they can go back to hunting right away, trusting that her nest will be safe, (birds and most mammals that navigate trees do not, as a general rule eat eggs). Other snakes take the time needed to stay with their eggs, until they hatch, before returning to their business. Once those eggs are hatched, those snakes are on their own; but, quite often, Momma still guards them with her life until they can hunt for themselves.
Snakes (including the Python and the Anaconda - real large critters) know that there are things out there that can kill them and eat them (specifically people). A large snake (like the Anaconda) knows that it is quite vulnerable while it is digesting a real big meal, because it pretty much cannot move. The smaller snakes that are out there know that there are many things that can kill and eat them too, including birds, the mongoose, the Komodo Dragon, people, even other snakes - the King Cobra's favourite meal is a smaller snake most commonly called the Cobra.
It's amazing that, even though snakes have all of these natural predators, the vast majority of snakes in the world are pretty much harmless (the Anaconda would rather hide in the water than to go at it with people who are hunting it). Some snakes can kill with a venomous bite, (which, when you look at it is a pretty quick way to go). Some can squeeze you into submission, and swallow you whole, where you don't really die until you have been partially swallowed (crushed by its jaws), and digested (which sounds real fun). But, even these snakes can tell when they are in jeopardy. Snakes can climb trees (no arms or legs to help them); so, if you are trying to escape a snake by climbing a tree, it can still get to you if it wants. Not only that, they can all swim too, so, sorry, but that trick won't work either.
So, if you question a mother's love to her young, just remember that there comes a point in a mother's life where she cannot baby you anymore (... sorry kids, but, Momma can't afford to spend the rest of her life wiping your ass for ya - at some point, you gotta do it on yer own). Oh, and if by chance you run across a snake, remember, it's nothing personal, she's just trying her best to survive.
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CONSPIRACY THEORIES
Why is it we're all allowed to go around yelling about how bad the Government is?
You hear it all the time: "The Government Is Big Brother!"
You sure as fuck can't say that shit in Orwell's 1984.
The message is clear: "Don't Fuck With Big Brother!"
The reason nobody is threatened with "Shut - up, or we'll fuckin' kill you!",
is Big Brother appreciates the free advertising.
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A CHANGE OF HEART
People always ask, "If God is so perfect, how can he allow this wrong, or that atrocity to happen to us." People need to realize, that if everything here were Okay, there would be nothing. Everybody on this Earth is carrying around some sort of resentment for the bad things that others have done. In this life, it takes a lot to ask people to forgive. But, if I can change my mind, I know that the Creator can also change its mind, whether it's on something bad that I once did, or even on when the world is supposed to end.
I realize that I have no choice, but to forgive JOHN W. I do not wish to know JOHN W anymore, but, I wish him nothing but peace. I have to say to whatever it is that I believe governs our existence, give RINI MAXWELL another chance. In the end, I bear no knives.
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GOING TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY
Christians believe that you're supposed to go to Church on the seventh day.
The seventh day is actually Saturday; but, we all go to church on Sunday, which is the first day of the week.
Somebody lied to me.
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SAVE AFRICA
A man who worked for the U.N. gave a speech at my highschool during my graduating year, (1989). He said many things that I found tragic. He said it was a matter of fact that our planet is dying. He talked about the Third World, and why people in Africa are starving. He said that the major world news networks sent their television crews to those places, and while they were there covering those stories they didn't starve. The reason they didn't starve is because there is actually food there. He said that the reason the African people are starving is strictly because they are poor.
He talked about how European Imperialism had a direct, and harmful effect on the African landscape's ability to keep producing food. He said that for close to a million years, the African landscape was used to the way the African tribes moved their herds around, in such a way in fact, that the land was able to produce an abundance of food. Once Europeans with their colonies started dictating which cash crops could grow, (and where), the results on the lands were devastating. By abusing the croplands that the African people were used to nurturing, the Imperialists basically caused a lot of fertile land to turn into desert.
He talked about African mothers, and how most of them were left with no choice but to have to watch anywhere from three to seven of their children die. He said most of us people in the West have it backwards: these people are not poor because they are having so many kids. Rather, they are having so many kids because they are poor. Many are dying of AIDS, while others are dying of starvation. This is really sad because the African people are so important: just listen to their music and see and hear how beautiful they are. We need to write off the Roman Catholic Church's position against birth control. They have no credibility on the issue of the basic human rights of poor people. If you are of the Catholic Faith, and these words offend you, that's too bad. We need to ignore any such "authority" of the Catholic Church so that lives can be saved.
He talked about the havok we have wreaked on the Environment. As I said, he pointed out that the planet is dying. He said that my generation could expect to live to their full life expectancy, (80 - 90 years). He said our kids could also expect to live to their full life expectancy. He said our grandchildren won't be so lucky.
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MUSIC MAKES THE WORLD GO 'ROUND
I came to an epiphany, that one of the things in this life that made me a better person, was getting a chance to learn and appreciate a great variety of music. I'm not going to waste your time by telling you about how wonderful my taste in music is, but, rather, a scenario that I am convinced will benefit the lives of the children of today. Here's what it is: I think that somebody should approach the people who are responsible for making legislation happen, and propose that our schooling system needs serious reform: reform that will make the world a better place for every citizen, especially our youth. What I am proposing is that the Government do certain specific things to the public school system. These are my suggestions:
a) Class sizes need to be made smaller. This will give people who really want to teach for a living the opportunity to focus on kids and their special needs. There will be some students who are good at Math and Computer Science, (neither one is a strength of mine, I sadly admit), while other students will excel at English. But, the point that I am making is that if class sizes were made smaller, (which means that we need more schools, with more classrooms, and thus more teachers), the ultimate result is that even more kids will have a fighting chance. More on that in a minute.
b) There needs to be less of an emphasis on forcing children to learn how to memorize everything that they are taught in their subjects, and MORE of an approach where we teach AND test them on how to go about finding the answer(s) for themselves. What I am saying, is that in any subject that a student is engaged in, we would be helping them more by giving them OPEN BOOK TESTS, where they had access to the answer, either by looking it up in a Dictionary, or by searching for the answer to ANY proposed test question by way of the Internet. The point is, that in doing so, we would be ultimately challenging, and benefiting many youths, by giving them skills they can really apply. There are many potential kids who could use a fair chance to make the Honour Roll, by ultimately steering them in subjects, fields, and vocations where they can really achieve and participate. It gets to a point in many people's lives, that when we are told that this is the only way we have to learn, it ultimately only serves to reward the kids who have the best talent for memorization, and stenography.
c) The subject on this issue that I am most passionate about, is on the issue of teaching Music Appreciation to today's youth as part of the curriculum. I read an interview with Kevin Eubanks where he said that, "The best possible thing that we could do for most kids is to get musical instruments into their hands." But, teaching them the C Major Scale is not nearly enough. We have to make a point of having them explore everything from Funk, Soul, R&B, Rock'n'Roll, Blues, Jazz, and ESPECIALLY HIP HOP. Regardless of what some social scientists say with regards to the so called "bad effects" that Gangsta Rap Music is having, the fact is, that Hip Hop is the music of many of today's youth. We have to make a point of giving them time to hear the stuff that they want, as well as some of the stuff they may not fully understand, with the understanding of how these styles came to be. It has to be taught a little at a time, but, what we get when we show others how to "Hear" a certain music, (and, I know this is possible, my music teachers taught me this), is that they cannot possibly help but learn to appreciate the humanity behind that music, as well as the historical significance of it, (even if it does take continued exposure).
The Gang Culture in North America is a real concern for many of us. Right away, the first thing we see is society reacting by demanding that we punish all of these disaffected youths, instead of striking at a time when they may be inclined to hang out with people who promote Gang Life. However, if we did get kids, (in fact as many kids as possible - especially the kids who wear colours), a taste of how much fun learning can be, by giving them the task of learning about their favourite music or song, (while showing them the cultural and historical significance of what it is they are hearing), I believe that there would be some students, (sadly, not all), who would relish coming to school. If there is a kid who is being disruptive, time him out. If there is a group that is disruptive, sit down with your I-Pod, and listen to Sketches Of Spain. Two instructors can react to the defiance of students by sitting down and playing a game of chess in front of the class. At some point, instructors will probably see them develop some curiosity as to what has so engrossed you. Sometimes, we have to tell them that attendance is NOT mandatory. The sad truth is, while all kids need a chance, (and in fact some cases, a second chance), not everybody we seek to educate will be inclined to want to learn. The message that we then have to let these people hear, is that they can come back at a future time. The door is open, as long as they respect the rules. I am also a firm believer that this could make an impact on the lives of those who sadly are doing time.
As convoluted as this is, there has to be some key elements that students have to be taught with regards to this rich heritage. For example, we have to show these kids who maybe haven't discovered the beauty of his music, the importance that Miles Davis made on the world. This is not to diminish the impact other people like Coltrane, Stanley Clarke, Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, and of course, Stevie Wonder have had on the world. Rather, when we use the example of Miles Davis, we must REALLY DRIVE HOME to kids, (especially inner city kids), how much Miles Davis Loves African American music, as well as musicians, culture, philosophy, and most importantly the African American people. We have to get them to see the level of talent that is required to play a saxophone, as well as a turntable. We also have to show them the issue of the struggle of not only Black People, but all working class people. We need to show the benefit for those of us who seek to become better people as we get older. With respect to gang life, it is imperitive, if legislators, school districts, teachers, and students want a real alternative to what is, for sadly way too many people, a harsh and violent way to live, and, ultimately die, then we have to make an effort to show them that kids, (especially inner city kids), are ultimately worth the effort. Why, for instance did all of the sixties British Rock Music people devote their entire lives to learning how to play the Blues? Why are both Stanley Clarke and Doug Wimbish equally as important to Modern Bass Playing as the late great Jaco Pastorius? What are we saying when music, film, and T.V. tell us that the only way African American men can succeed in this life is by blowing one another away, selling drugs, and ending up either dead, or in prison? What role did the early music play in ultimately teaching the barbarians who enslaved Black People, that when you get right down to it, we are all Everyday People? Why are Coltrane, Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, and Stevie Wonder all as essential to the Civil Rights Movement as Stokely Charmichael, Malcolm X, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr? Why is the music of Public Enemy essential listening to those who truly love Rap Music? "Let them learn the beauty in the songs of those people, (from all continents in fact), who ultimately sing about human rights."
d) The thing that the Government needs to be shown, is ultimately, that this is in fact one key answer to a very serious and complex problem. It must be made clear that this will NOT eradicate the Gang Culture in it's entirety, (a culture that some see as the best way to prosperity); but rather, it is a way that we can hopefully use to combat the allure that gang culture has on many people (of all ages and backgrounds), in our society.
I mentioned that one thing we need, is for there to be smaller class sizes, more schools, more classrooms, and especially more teachers. There will be a significant benefits that will come from such an approach. There would be more jobs created for people in the field(s) of music appreciation, and music education, which would in turn create employment opportunities for people who wish to pursue a career in music. (Let's face it, job security is an issue for everybody). This will also help out the dilemma of those in our society who are concerned with the many issues of today's changing economy, and what to do with many who are at a loss for finding a career that suits them. Kevin Eubanks has the right idea: get kids participating in making music. It will help make them better people.
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RED BACTERIA UNDER THE ANTARCTIC OCEAN
I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but, apparently there is a huge mass of red bacteria under the ice caps in the Antarctic. If it turns out to be simply algae, I will have to say that I am probably wrong with my assessment. I actually believe that this shit is a microbe, or cell structure of some type, that actually came from someplace else. I hate to tell you this folks, (and, please remember that I know for a fact that I am crazy), but, the Martians are here.
See, here's what my gut is telling me about this. Life didn't originate here on Earth, (like the experts all say). It actually first appeared in our Galaxy on Mars, and this red bacteria that is now here is the exact same shit. Bear with me, (it's just an idea). The scientists are really HOPING that there actually is a life form living under the polar ice caps on Mars. (Be careful what you wish for 'cause you just might get it).
See, here's the first thing: We know that life can exist at hot temperatures, (desert life for instance). In fact, there is a species of fish in our oceans right now, and for some reason, they like it HOT! REAL FUCKING HOT! THEY LOVE HEAT SO FUCKING MUCH, THAT EVERY TIME AN UNDERWATER VOLCANO GOES OFF, THEY CAN"T GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO THE LAVA! We know that life really does seem to enjoy warm temperature, (temperate climates). We also know that the polar bears, penguins, sea lions, jellyfish, orcas, whales, and squid show that there are some kinds of life in our polar regions that like it Really Fuckin' Cold. It's often been theorized, questioned, and discussed by many brilliant people, on why life didn't evolve on Mars, as it did here on Earth: Mars has an atmosphere; there is water there; it receives solar energy; But, you see, we've never been able to get to Mars to take a look for ourselves, to see what the fuck is up.
Well, here's my answer: Life actually did evolve on Mars, way before it ever did on Earth. Now, I can't swear to you by oath that I KNOW this for a fact, because I've only been around for about 40 Earth years. There have been at least seven major extinctions here on Earth, and, for some reason it's been awhile since the last one. Somehow however, life keeps coming back. The first time life appeared here could have been the last time, (but it wasn't). But, to answer the question, why doesn't Martian life evolve further, than just this red dust/algae/bacteria? Well, maybe it simply can't. Furthermore, I can't help but wonder if this is simply because this red dust does not allow it. If there is actually a life form under the polar ice caps on Mars, we know that it is the dominant life form. Maybe it actually made up its MIND, (I'll clarify - in the same way AIDS knows how to attack the Human Immune System, and pretty much just decides to go at it), to make sure that there is no other form of competition. Maybe, the reason we keep getting introduced to all these new SUPER VIRUSES, is to try and teach what is here, how to adapt to a virus that just keeps on ticking and it basically dictates to Mother Nature, (telling her over and over again), that it's going to be "Us, and only Us."
There are questions that I have to pose, with regards to this red/algae/bacteria under the Antarctic. For instance:
a) How long has it been here?
b) Where the fuck did it come from?
c) Why have we never seen it before? (It's somewhat recent, from what I can tell).
d) What the fuck is it doing here period? I guess there is a totally logical explanation; but, to my knowledge, we have never been introduced to this shit before, and we actually do spend quite a bit of time down South. They can't really figure out what the fuck is causing the plankton population to consistently dwindle either. One thing that they do know, is that whatever is causing the decline in the population of the plankton is having a huge impact on the entire food chain. A funny thing though, is that we don't hear much in the news about this (and it's actually been going on for a really long time): maybe because we haven't really been able to notice the difference, (at least, not up here, where things are nice and warm). It's interesting to note that NASA first discovered a hole in our ozone layer, quite awhile back, (you may remember that), right above Antarctica; but, we didn't actually get too worked up about it, because, once again, we couldn't really tell the difference. If this red "Martian" life form did actually get here, is it possible that it made a point of eating away at some of our ozone layer as well, because these microbes know that this ozone layer is essential for protecting life on Earth?
What would this red microbe/bacteria/algae life form need, in order to ensure that the Martian landscape is the property of "Them and Them alone?" Glad you asked. It basically knows, that as long as it just stays under a polar ice cap, there pretty much ain't no way that any other form of life is going to be able to come along and, say, get close to it to eat it up, (YUM!). This lifeform may have made up its mind, "Sorry, you do not eat us, we eat you." If it can go without eating for, say a real long time, (due perhaps to the fact that it doesn't always have to burn energy - the same way you and I burn calories), then it's pretty much capable of determining that it is the dominant life form. Interestingly enough, there are insects here called bedbugs, and they know that these little critters can go for a long time before they need to feed. "The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth."
Now, to answer a fairly important question, as to how the fuck does this lifeform get all the way from Mars to here? Well, take this into account. We definitely know that Mars often experiences these REALLY massive dust storms, where these clouds of Red Dust basically end up all the way in the stratosphere, possibly even in Mars' orbit. There's really no way of telling where the shit could end up, or if it's carrying any, (well, let's call them "hitch hikers"). You see, they know that things like fat cells, proteins, and maybe even enzymes are going all over the Milky Way. The Cosmologists are pretty certain of this. They say that life here doesn't have to be a miracle, and that the only reason it exists here is because the thing that was carrying the DNA of, practically everything that exists on our world, (well except now, our new Martian Friends), quite likely came here on a meteor from Outer Space. A serious question that we have to ask is, if this life form that is now here actually did come from a meteorite, maybe the dominant lifeform on Mars actually came from the same kind of meteorite as well. (Just an idea).
01) If life did let's say, just automatically start evolving independently first on the world we humans call Mars, and, in fact, didn't change too much; AND THEN, not only did the same thing here on Earth as well, but somehow also managed to keep going, and evolving, what are the chances of that happening?
02) If there was a helping hand with regards to this, (i.e. possibly a Higher Power, or a Force, or a Spirit...) well, there are many different ways we could approach explaining it; because ultimately, there's so many different possible names for what I often call "The Creator," there's no real sure way to say what this Divine Intervention can be called, or how it can be described. The bottom line is, this shit about Martian Life is not something I am thinking, but, rather, something that I wonder about. It may take our planet awhile to learn that maybe, instead of just sitting down and laughing at a movie called Mars Attacks, we actually could do the Earth, (the Greeks call her "Mother"), some good, by testing a nuclear missile on the polar ice caps of Mars, in hopes that we can teach these "Martians" some manners. It would sure be better than having some regime continue testing more nuclear weapons on Earth. We definitely don't need more of that. Will a nuclear missile even be able to make a dent in something as strong as this Martian life form? They can take the cold. Can they take the Heat?
In my religion, it is not mandatory to believe, nor convert. It is not even mandatory to necessarily be polite. It is however mandatory to always strive to be kind. (Thank you for teaching me that Bodra. I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, I forgive you). A point that I definitely have to make about all of this "speculation", is this is all just an idea. Nobody is obliged to believe or agree with me. People for some reason find it reasonable to believe everything they read in the Bible or the Qur'an, (which baffles me). In this day and age, if you really do believe everything that you read and/or hear, then you're an idiot. As I said earlier, I know for a fact that I am crazy: what's your excuse?
Something that I need to leave you with, my friends, and that is, Mars is the Roman name for "The God Of War".
Love always,
D. Ian Smith
songwriter, singer, bassist, producer,
the boss of humble bumble records
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CHRISTMAS THE PAGAN RITUAL
Christmas is not a Christian holiday. Catholics and Christians celebrate it, but, it's not a Christian holiday: it's a Celtic Pagan ritual that was appropriated by the Roman Catholic Church. The reason the Church sanctioned this festival is because they saw the economic potential of this celebration.
The Evergreen tree was/is a symbol of fertility to the Celts. December is the coldest and darkest time of the year; but, The Evergreen tree survives. The opening of gifts was an offering to the Gods, as a way of offering prayer that there would be another season: one that would yield a bountiful harvest.
As far as the Birthday of Christ is concerned, the Roman Catholic Church has no clue as to the true birthday of Jeshua Khristos. In fact, if Jesus were alive, and he witnessed the atrocities committed by the Church, including: the things they did to Galileo; the things they did during the Crusades; and the things they did to young boys, (castrating them so their singing voices would remain pure and perfect), Jesus would probably call the Church "The Enemy."
Christmas evolved over time because it gives people hope. It's interesting that something as noble as that could be tainted by lies in the interests of commerce. I can't say I blame people though. Our present economy would probably die without "The Christmas Spirit."
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CHINA'S TREATMENT OF THE FALUN GONG AND TIBET
I find China's views and treatment towards the Falun Gong, and the people of Tibet to be deplorable, scary, and downright bizarre. When it comes to the Human Rights violations that China has committed against these people, it's a wonder that somebody hasn't responded in the same way that Al Qaida has towards the U.S. There's no way to say this nicely - China's record is as bad as both Stalin and Hitler. It's obvious that if the Falun Gong's beliefs are that offensive to the People's Republic Of China, then the only right, and humane thing to do, is deport all the Falun Gong practitioners to another part of the world, where they can no longer be a "threat" to the "stability" of the Chinese Regime. Not only that, it would be less costly for China to handle this so called problem diplomatically and humanely, rather than using the extremely violent tactics that they have employed against the Falun Gong. Torture, forcing people into slave labour, (something Karl Marx spoke out against), and harvesting organs from these people is not only wrong, it's costly. You have a situation where the Government of China is wasting all these resources and money, when the easy way to get rid of the problem is to simply deport the Falun Gong off of Chinese soil.
From a historical point of view, China has a beautifully diverse culture. One that has given us Tai Chi Chuan, Wing Chun, White Crane, Drunken Monkey, the Pi Pa, Chinese folk and classical music, Chinese Ballet, Chinese Opera, Chinese mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and the Shaolin Temple, to name just a few things. China seems to want to smother its own culture by pretending that certain things don't exist. The fact that the government of China is threatened by something new, (like the Falun Gong) shows that their government is as afraid of Big Brother as the citizens are. If China is determined to crush every new idea that comes along they will kill things that every person, (including people in Government) desperately needs: hope, passion, inspiration and innovation. It's understandable for someone to have a favourite song, but at some point you have to move on. You cannot spend the rest of your life listening to the same song over and over again. Without invention, there can be no tradition.
China's regime is extremely repressive against anybody who believes in a faith. Karl Marx once said "Religion is the opiate of the masses," but, he would never condone torture just because a group or an individual chose to believe in a Higher Power. China's treatment of the Tibetan Buddhists has been just as brutal, as their treatment of the Falun Gong. If the People's Republic of China is so concerned with ending Theocracy, (the people of Tibet want a Buddhist society), why don't they take on the Taliban? I find it ironic that the Chinese Communist Party doesn't make a point of picking on victims who are capable of fighting back. China's Government can choose Atheism if it wants, but the right to believe or disbelieve comes down to the individual. If China is so sure that there is "Nothing" then tell me: what spins the Earth around the sun? We constantly rotate in order that our planet is always both hot and cool. How does something the size of our Earth just constantly move by itself?
This is a warning to the Government Of the People's Republic Of China: you have not only hurt your victims, you have hurt yourselves as well. If you want your people to remain in your country, you would be well advised to make their homeland more of a place where they should want to stay, so that they no longer wish to leave. If you don't learn to allow people the rights to be themselves, you will always be afraid of the 1.3 Billion people that you govern. Not only that, they will only ever see you as the oppressor that you are, and believe me, your people will never trust you.
People need to realize that it doesn't pay to make enemies, (remember 9/11). You never know when someone might decide to mail you Anthrax.
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THE APOCALYPSE OF THE APOCALYPSE
The purpose of this message is to offer everybody hope. It is the one thing that we all need, because we are killing ourselves with hate. There comes a time when an individual must take a stand, and fight for what they believe in. At that point, a line is drawn in the sand. The one thing that I fight for, (by speaking out), is everybody's natural right to live in this world. By Natural Law, this planet is the property of the people, the animals, and all the inhabitants who live here. My only aim in writing this article is to offer a perspective on how we can all make the necessary changes needed in making this world a safer place for everyone and their family. This is meant to bring an end to the ongoing Apocalypse. Hence, The Apocalypse of The Apocalypse.
Pt. I - Faith:
There are so many mythologies, folklores, religions, and faiths from around the world, (from all different eras in fact), that it is impossible to name them all here. According to author Joseph Campbell, one thing that we get when we do study these different ancient religions and myths, is that even though they all pop up at different times and places, they often share similar themes and images. Campbell teaches us that people from every era have an underlying belief that there is somehow a higher power that made life possible here on this Earth. Take for example, the Greeks and the Aboriginal Peoples of North America: They both believe that life here emerged from a marriage of both Earth, (Mother), and Sky, (Father). There is some scientific wisdom to this, as we know that both sunshine, and rain give our world the nutrients we need in order to exist here.
Here is another example of different religions sharing common beliefs. Three things are shared by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam: they all believe in the Monotheistic God of Abraham; they all believe in Jesus Christ, (the Jews see Jesus as an historical figure, the Christians see Jesus as the Son Of God, and the Muslims regard him as a prophet); and, all three religions believe in an Apocalypse as well. There is only one problem: which version do you believe, and how do you choose? What's really sad, is that Muslims, Jews, and Christians have been killing each other over the last millennium, which has been marking the ongoing Apocalypse. If these three religions do not reconcile, and learn to live in harmony, there really will be an Apocalypse, one that will be devastating.
There have been many examples of an ongoing Apocalypse, including, (but not necessarily limited to): The Crusades; Colonialism; Nazi Germany; the Vietnam Conflict; Cambodia; Chile; Argentina; El Salvador; Nicaragua; Bosnia; China's invasion of Tibet, and 9/11.
Take 9/11 as an example of the ongoing Apocalypse. The first thing that needs to be said about this atrocity, is it was NOT an inside job on the part of the U.S. Government. The only people in the world today, who will commit suicide in order to kill their enemy, (the Japanese Kamikaze Pilots of World War II no longer exist), is Radical Fundamentalist Muslims. We typically call these people Al Qaida, but, there are so many groups with different names, that the closest thing we can call Al Qaida is a philosophy, not an organization. When Al Qaida took the lives of those civilians, (which they said was justified because the victims were non-believers), the hijackers became the Enemy Crusader they are speaking out against. How can any of those civilians ever have any hope of converting to Islam now that they are dead? The only thing that killing those people on 9/11 accomplished was to increase in the presence of the U.S. military on Muslim soil.
Here are three things to remember about 9/11:
a). There is currently a $50 Million bounty on the head of Osama, and nobody has claimed it. There are millions of poor people in the Middle East who could really use the money, but, nobody has betrayed him. It goes to show that the majority of these people cannot be bought.
b). The people who crashed those airplanes into the World Trade Center knew they were going to be incinerated. You're crazy if you think these people don't know how hot jet fuel burns simply because their skin is brown.
c). On the morning of 9/11, in a span of less than three hours, using only four airplanes, Al Qaida managed to kill close to 3,000 people. THINK ABOUT THAT!
The incentive for why we need to put an end to the Apocalypse:
The book "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel says that it is possible to reconcile different religious faiths, and, in fact, embrace more than one: the only thing required to do this is a desire to embrace the traditions, philosophies, and customs of the different cultures of all the different people from around the world. I actually take great issue with these people who go around saying, "If you do not worship my God at my Temple, then you are going straight to Hell."
Now, why would you wish that on anybody? There is no love behind condemning somebody to Hell.
That simply cannot be motivated by my Father's love for me. I agree with Bertrand Russell, that "the belief in eternal punishment is immoral." I believe we owe it to each other to promote and adhere to tolerance, as well as compassion. It's perfectly alright to have a belief system, as long as we don't use it as a way to condone going out of our way to inflict violence on others. We need a belief system where Faith can be found, while also offering Hope to everybody. If people do not reform their extreme beliefs with regards as to how they treat others, the current Apocalypse will not only continue, it will also get worse.
Pt. II - What Do I Believe In?
I definitely believe in Karma. I believe in a life force that the Japanese and Korean people call Ki, (the Chinese pronounce it Chi). I also believe in a thing I call "The Cycle." The best example that I can give is the Mayan Calendar. It is based upon a series of cycles, and at the end of going through all of these individual cycles, it gets to a point where it hits the climax of the "Great Cycle." Once "The Cycle" reaches zero, it starts all over again. (As of this writing, this new "Cycle" is supposed to start around December 21, 2012). There is talk that the Mayan Calendar is going to come to a complete stop, and that the world is going to end. This is a false statement: the new "Cycle" is just going to start over again, where we will move from the Age Of Pisces to the Age Of Aquarius.
I also believe in the Big Bang as well as the science behind DNA, which says that everybody, (including every fetus), is unique. I believe that our Universe has a duality to it: call it Yin and Yang if you will. On top of that, I understand why the First Nations believe in "The Creator(s)," (i.e. both a Mother, and a Father). According to author Bruce Chatwin, in his book titled "The Song Lines", the Aboriginal People of Australia call it "The Dreaming": they actually believe that it is music that makes us, and creates life, not the other way around. Interestingly enough, the physicists say that the early forces of gravity that first shaped our Universe, and in fact made life possible support the argument that the same forces of physics involved in making music possible also make life possible here as well.
I believe that every soul comes from a thing called "The Source", and that when we die, our soul returns to "The Source." In other words, I believe in some form of ascension into Heaven. I also believe in other Universes, (the physicists and science fiction writers say it is without a doubt true). I think that for some people, the journey must be made through these different Universes until we learn certain lessons we need to learn while we are alive. I believe that the test in this life is whether or not we grow and become better people as we get older. I also believe that the Creator has shown us it has the ability to choose how it shows itself to us, as is proven to us from the archealogical relics we have been finding over the centuries. I believe that all the different belief systems have validity to them, and that all of them have something to offer as well.
My belief in The System By Design:
I believe that each system has a specific function, thus it was designed. (Yeah yeah, I know, Bertrand Russell says it's nonsense).
I believe that every termite mound, bee hive, and ant colony are all examples of the system by design. I believe that the respiratory system is an example of a system that was designed, (for every human being and animal). I believe that the circulatory system is an example of a system that was designed, (for every human being and animal). I believe that the central nervous system is an example of a system that was designed, (for every human being and animal). I believe that the reproductive system is an example of a system that was designed, (for every human being and animal).
I believe that the planet's precipitation system was designed, (the rain is a gift - there would be no life without it). I believe the planet's seasonal system was designed. The planet rotates AND revolves around the sun constantly so that the Earth can be both hot and cool at the same time. If the Earth didn't move this way, one side of the planet would freeze, while the other would fry, (and we would all be dead). I believe that the Solar System is a system by design.
I believe in Evolution. I believe we as a species are evolving, (technology as an example). I believe we as a society are evolving, (art and culture as examples). I believe we as a planet are evolving, (continental drift and fossils as examples). I believe that our Universe is evolving, and, I believe that, like us, our Creator is evolving too. I believe that the purpose of life on this world is such that the Creator, (He/She/It/They), wanted a family. A friend pointed out to me, that no matter how smart we think we may be, we simply do not have the alphabet, (let alone the language), capable of discussing something as abstract and intricate as the Creation Of Life.
I do not have a name for my religion. It's no better or worse that yours. I gladly embrace any culture or faith that does not promote hate. Not one faith can be my favourite, and yet, at the same time, they are all my favourite. All people are my people. Furthermore, I'm not so sure that I want you buying into my religion, because that then makes me the Pope. I actually advise you to go out and find your own religion. Create one if you have to, if that will get you to stop killing each other. You may agree with what I say, you may not; but, one thing for sure is I'm not going to kill any of you because you disagree with me. I'm not asking you to believe what I say to be the Gospel Truth. I'm not asking you to believe my Bullshit. I'm only asking that you all stop believing the Bullshit! If you think that all of life's answers can be found by reading one book, then you are, by definition, a moron. If that were the case, then why do we need books, schools, universities, and libraries.
The Paleontologists say that there have been at least seven mass extinctions on this planet since life first emerged here. Yet somehow, even when there has been one extinction after another, life keeps coming back here time and time again. The first time could have been the last time: sometimes, our first encounter with something bad is traumatic enough to make us say, "Never Again." One mass extinction could have been traumatic enough for our world; but, to go through it seven times, how is this possible? On top of all of that, every time life returns, we get enough sunlight, oxygen, and water, needed to keep everything alive. Our planet has gone through cosmic rays, continental drift, bombardment by meteorites and asteroids, and ice ages, and yet, life has preservered. As I said earlier, the Earth constantly moves so that she can be both hot and cool at the same time. There is talk about how life first arrived here on meteorites: how do those molecules survive those vast distances in absolute zero, (very cold), as well as entry into our atmosphere, (very hot). Now, no one is obliged to believe in what I believe. There was a time where I refused to believe; but, there is always those who ask, "How can there be a God when all of these atrocities happen?" The assumption behind this question is that the Creator's job is somehow easy. However, if there is actually not just one, but in fact, a multitude of Universes, (something the physicists and science fiction writers insist is true), then how can the Creator be everywhere at once? It's just not possible. First, you have to look at how complex our very own Universe is, and how, (for the most part), all of these Celestial bodies move and work in harmony with one another. You then have to ask:
How can Chaos be in control of everything? Our Galaxy has a Black Hole: Why haven't we been swallowed up? What moves the Earth around the Sun? Why not Jupiter? We're pretty much big enough to be one of Jupiter's moons. If the answer to all of this is Gravity, (which holds everything together), then why is everything expanding away from the center of the Universe at THREE TIMES THE SPEED OF LIGHT? Yeah, yeah, I know, these things just happen.
The Universe is many things to me: it's an ancient story, (a tale where the mystery is still unravelling before us); it's a photograph of things long gone, (the light of those stars is just reaching us now); it's an orchestral score of celestial music, (the stars produce actual notes);it's a message of hope from the Gods, (one that uses an alphabet, a code, and a language); it's a living breathing thing in constant motion; it's a system by design orchestrated so that life may live and thrive here; it is the greatest of all miracles. It's a big place we live in. I can't look at everything and say that this just happened. All I can say to whatever it is that gave me a chance to be here, is thank you for my friends, thank you for my family, and thank you for my life.
Pt. III - Hope
As I said before, the purpose of this article is to offer Hope to our world. If there is still life here, then by definition, there is still hope. However, one thing we need to address, (with regards to how we treat both the Environment as well as each other), is that time is running out. We may have done enough damage to the planet during this last 500 years that if there is another mass extinction, there may not be another chance for life to exist here again. One thing we must all realize, is that Hope cannot die, (no matter how much how much George Orwell you read). It should be noted that Orwell's 1984 is not a prediction, as much as his writing was meant to serve as a warning as to how we would all suffer, if we allowed our world to deteriorate to the point that his Dystopia did. Hope can be injured, wounded, and even betrayed by those who abandon it by caving into despair. Nevertheless, she will survive. The only thing a soul needs in order to live forever is the ability to yearn. The first music we hear is mother's heartbeat when we were in her womb. All music comes from Mother nature, thus it belongs to everyone. It's natural to have a favourite piece of music; but, at some point you have to move on. You cannot spend the rest of your life listening to the same song over and over again. Even people who go about cultivating terror in others have need of those who cultivate hope. The only part of this song that we can take credit for is the words:
There is no beginning,
There is no end,
There is only right now.
Right now, we need to acknowledge the basic human rights of the people of Islam, because both Israel and the U.S. are looking like Nazi Germany. The Muslims are sick of us occupying their territories, taking their oil, and forcing them to buy it back from us. The attacks of 9/11 were horrifying, but, our response has been even worse. We have been killing them for almost ten years now, and the killing hasn't stopped. How much revenge do we need? The devastation that we have left over there is only feulling hatred from the people of Islam. The "War on Terror" is really a war dedicated to the terror of the people of Islam. I am not against the people of Israel, the people of Islam, or the people of the United States. Like philosopher John Locke, I believe everybody in this world has a natural right to live. But the U.S. has not learned from its past mistakes that it doesn't pay to make enemies, (South East Asia, Africa, Latin America, etc). They did not learn from the Vietnam Conflict that you cannot occupy someone else's country. The Vietnamese people successfully drove the U.S. off of Vietnamese soil. The Vietnamese people spoke up by saying, "We do not want you here." The U.S. are now making the same mistakes all over again in the Middle East. Those who do not know their own history are doomed to repeat it. The people of Islam want the U.S. off of Muslim soil. The U.S. needs to realize that if the Colombian Drug Cartels can acquire a Russian Submarine from the former K.G.B., (the U.S. did not win the Cold War against the Soviet Union - the Russian Mafia did), then some of these people called "Al Qaida" can acquire similar weapons.
If they actually do acquire these so called "Weapons Of Mass Destruction" we'll all be having a real bad day. The best thing that we can do is stop fostering hate in the people of Islam, (the majority of whom want nothing to do with us), and stop giving them reasons to want to blow us up with car bombs. This is a warning to Islam, Israel, and the U.S. that nobody wants this getting any worse.
You may ask what gave me the right to play Jesus? My response is, everybody should take a turn. It is way different from playing God, I can tell you that. You are greatly mistaken if you think that I am interested in saving your soul. Your soul does not need saving. I am only interested in saving life, (and lives). As far as me playing Jesus is concerned, trust me, it's not a lot of fun: just look at how he ended up.
Ultimately, all that I can say is this world belongs to everybody. There is enough Earth for everybody to go around. This world is both mine and yours, so let's start treating it like it's ours. If the parties involved do not reconcile, (i.e. come to terms and make peace), they will get their wish, and the Apocalypse will happen. If you do not put a stop to this, then you will get the dystopia you all so desperately crave. And, if you are by chance, one of these people who thinks that money is everything, try eating it sometime.
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SONNY SAYS
Sonny Says (music and Lyrics by D. Ian Smith)
(Dedicated to Ralph Hubert "Sonny" Barger)
My eighty year old Grandma ran a biker off the road
She's as blind as a tadpole, she's as senile as a goat
Well you better watch it Granny, get yer fanny out of town now
Them evil outlaw bikers, they're gonna hunt you down
So, run them off the road, run them off the road
Run those outlaw bikers and their choppers off the road
Wreck their motorcycles and run them out of town, now
Run them off the road, run them off the road
You can't escape the bikers man they pack the biggest load
Everybody knows that law enforcement is owned
They killed a guy named Zeke for stealing all their gold
They killed a guy named Lester because of what he owed
They'll kill off all your family if you don't do what you're told
So, run them off the road, run them off the road
Put them all in concentration camps and get them off the road
Wreck their motorcycles and run them out of town, now
Run them off the road, run them off the road
Narco terrorist operations, teenage girl prostitution
Gangster style home invasions, contract killing executions
You'll be making quick transactions just to pay them restitution
A sticky situation, with only one solution
The lady at the bank downtown is laundering their money
Life's a whole lot safer for her cocaine dealing hubby
well I know what your doing and you better watch it buddy
It's time to pay the piper, and he don't think it's funny
My eighty year old Grandma ran a biker off the road
She's as blind as a tadpole, she's as senile as a goat
Well you better watch it Granny, get yer fanny out of town now
Them evil outlaw bikers, they're gonna hunt you down
Well you better watch it Granny, get yer fanny out of town now
Them evil outlaw bikers, they're gonna hunt you down
The lyrics to this song are dedicated to Ralph Hubert "Sonny" Barger, (the architect behind the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club). The lyrics are harsh, but it is not intended to make Bikers like Barger look bad: it's merely a criticism of some of the Outlaw Bikers ways and policies. Out of fairness, it must be noted that you cannot paint everyone with the same brush. While it's true that many bikers who wear a patch are not saints, after reading Sonny Barger's book, I came to realize that they too can become better people as they get older.
One thing you get when you read Barger's book, (titled Hells Angel: The Life And Times Of Sonny Barger and The Hells Angels Motorcycle Club), Barger talks about how Hunter S. Thompson spent time riding with the Angels. At one point when a member slaps his old Lady, (Barger defends it by saying, "Hey, it happens"), Barger then goes on to talk in great detail how the rest of the Angels proceed to brutalize Thompson for having the audacity to protest the use of violence against a woman. Barger doesn't admit to this in his book: he brags about it.
In another chapter, Barger makes a point of talking about how it is absolutely necessary for people who dare to testify against the Hells Angels to go into witness protection, out of fear for their safety. Once again, Barger doesn't admit to this in his book: he brags about it. It's a sad fact that the Hells Angels are known for killing people, including sometimes women and children, ("Hey, it happens"). Barger and the Hells Angels need to realize that this is actually a form of terrorism, because free speech, (including free speech in a court of law), is a constitutional right guaranteed in both the U.S., as well as Canada. When Barger brags about how terrified these people have to be to need witness protection, he's actually attacking their constitutional rights. This actually makes the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club a terrorist organization, (by definition), for three reasons:
a) Firstly, Sonny Barger had to obtain the club's permission to use the Hells Angels name AND logo, for the purpose of promoting his book. This, by definition, means that the Hells Angels definitely support Barger's statements in his book.
b) The second reason this makes the Hells Angels guilty of terrorism is because the Hells Angels is by definition a franchise.
c) Thirdly, the official definition of terrorism is the systematic use of terror to bring about political rule or opposition, something that definitely applies in this case.
Personally, if I, (or my family), were seriuosly hurt or threatened by the Hells Angels, I would file a class action lawsuit against the Angels, suing them in civil court for $10 Million.
Barger talks about the Rolling Stones concert at Altamont. At one point Keith Richards makes a protest against the Angels and their use of violence against the concert goers. Richards says, "You guys stop hitting those people or we're not gonna play anymore." Barger's response is to coerce Richards into playing by pointing a pistol at him. Barger doesn't admit to this in his book: he brags about it. He's proud that he intimidates the terrified Richards into playing his ass off. The funny thing is, Barger could have brutalized Richards; he could have smashed Richards' guitar to pieces; He could have even taken Keith Richards' guitar and kept it; but instead he insisted on making Keith Richards play for him. The reason Barger did this is because the Rock'n'Roll music that Keith Richards and The Rolling Stones make gives Sonny Barger hope, (which even he needs). Even those individuals who go out of their way to cultivate terror in others still have need of those who cultivate hope. As far as Barger's justification for using violence on others is concerned, ("Hey, it happens"), all I can say is, "Yeah yeah, I know, don't touch an angry biker's chopper. Well, what the fuck is it doing in my way in the first place? Why am I even looking at you period? I want to see Keith Richards play the guitar."
I have managed to read some books about the Hells Angels by an author named Yves Lavigne. he talks about how sometimes the Hells Angels use car bombs to kill people,
("Hey, it happens"). He talks about how they sometimes pimp out women, ("Hey, it happens"). Yves Lavigne isn't out to make the Hells Angels look bad: his aim is to convince them that they need to change their ways. Sometimes you read about how the Hells Angels kill people. Sometimes it's a Hells Angel who is killed. Usually, when a full patch member of the Hells Angels is killed, it's because he was killed by other Hells Angels. I'd feel terrible if I knew that I had to be afraid of my closest friends.
I made a point of reading Sonny Barger's book because I wanted a chance to read his side of the story. Even though he has definitely made some mistakes in this life, I know that he's becoming a better person as he gets older. That makes me want to believe there is hope that even a gangster can learn some humanity. There is one last thing that I would like to leave you with, and that is, while he was serving time in jail, Sonny Barger decided to learn how to play the guitar.
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