Burn The Past

On the eve of my 40th birthday, I need to do something. Burn the past.

Tonight I’m going to write a letter to the past. Tomorrow I will borrow a lighter from my mom’s husband and I will burn that letter, letting the ashes fall to the ground. The smoke will carry off into the sky and I will move on.


In the old days the film would turn your eyes red. Instafilters don’t replicate that. Hmm.

Mistakes were made. Bad decisions were made. The wrong people were trusted.

It’s alright. It’s over. It’s behind me. A new start. A new life. Starting now.


I guess if I wanted to look back, I could say that I’ve gone three months without any soft drinks. And that is a great feeling. I don’t miss soda. I enjoy water. Tap water, even. I’m drinking tea more. It’s like I’m changing all the time.


And yet as I write this, New Japan Pro Wrestling is on in the background. Some things never change.

I have no idea what I’m going to write but it won’t be long. One page, tops. Screw the past. Mindfulness, is that what they call it?



We Need To Talk About Presidential Dick

This is not fun for me to write. Because we are talking about the dick of the man who is ostensibly our President and the odds that we will eventually if not soon see a picture of his dick.

Today came a tweet that gave millions the fear. It contained these words:

Stormy’s Lawyer on MSNBC. I’ll paraphrase. “We have photos of Trump’s penis”.

I will not share the source of the tweet because that person has no credibility. Read the actual quote from Daniels’ lawyer here.

Stormy Daniels is an adult film star. An award-winning porn star. A Hall of Fame porn star. She was and is very good at her job. She had an affair with Trump, whose lawyer paid her six figures to not talk about an affair that took place in 2006, the year Stormy won “Favorite Breasts” at the Fans of Adult Media and Entertainment (FAME) Awards.

Daniels’ lawyer mentioned that his client has other documents regarding her affair with the “President”. That does not equal dick pics. At least it I hope not.

Yet it gave me the fear. It’s giving you the fear as you read this. Because we don’t want it to be true and yet so many of our worst fears about this world are true. Parts of our country are disaster areas. Some of our fellow Americans are willfully ignorant and hateful. People in power act in bad faith constantly. Why wouldn’t there be a picture of Trump’s dick floating around just waiting to ruin everybody’s life forever?

We’ve all laughed at the idea of a pee tape. You can imagine it being black and white, grainy and out of focus like security cam footage. In the distance, you’d see the action. But a dick pic? That would be up close and personal. Way too up close.

And it would never go away.

Think about it. The internet is forever. It is inevitable that we will see nude pics of a future president. Consider our social media/Snapchat/cloud culture. Today’s nude Snapchatting teen will be swearing on a Bible at the Capitol thirty years from now.

But Trump’s dick? You want to throw up just thinking about it. If we see it, we will all see it. We will never escape it. Take lemonparty, meatspin, goatse and multiply them by infinity. Trump’s dick will be like that. 2 girls 1 cup? 1 guy 1 jar? Kim K Superstar? 1 Night in Paris? Pamela and Tommy Lee? This is the culmination.

We will live in a post-Trump dick universe. His dick will be everywhere, like giant posters of Mao in China. We will be made to carry little red books with illustrations of Trump’s dick in it. You will get a text from your friends and open it up and it’s a picture of Trump’s dick and with the caption “YOU JUST LOST THE GAME”.

You know about the game? The game that you don’t play until you find out you just lost it? Trump’s dick will be the new game. And we will never escape it.

The world will not end with a bang or a whimper but with a dick. A grey, sad dick.

It will be a watershed moment, mostly because we will never stop crying.

WWE Wrestler or Porn Star


I’ve started watching wrestling again, and by wrestling I mean “WWE” and when I mean again I mean “sometimes, with a distant eye in case they pull some shit that drives me up a wall”. It should not surprise you that the WWE wrestlers are in incredible shape and often look like they are cut out of marble. Look at them closer and you’ll see an absence of body hair. Once upon a time, wrestlers looked rugged and wild. You’d see wooly hair all over and they’d have beer bellies and sailor tattoos and missing front teeth. Not anymore, and especially not in the WWE. You’re going to see well-defined abs, bulging pecs and the women are likely to have big bolt-on tits, thick makeup and ridiculous hair extensions.


The “good old days” of pro wrestling

Their names are also generic. WWE gives them new stage names. Only a select few (like John Cena) get to go by their given name. Some of them sound kinda porny.

Don’t believe me? Have you ever heard of a guy named Dolph Ziggler? Dirk Diggler, Dolph Ziggler. Make the connection. In the 90’s, WWE had a porn-star character named Val Venis, but they’re not going in that adult-humor direction anymore. Now they just look like porn stars instead.


Dolph Ziggler

Porn and WWE have a lot in common: industries based on perception and looks, widely held in contempt by mainstream media, necessary viewer suspension of disbelief (that these two men hate each other or that this girl really wants to see you masturbate). And though I’m no insider, I bet there’s a lot of politicking in both industries.

With that out of the way, here’s something for the non-fan. Try to guess which names I list here are porn stars and which ones are WWE wrestlers. I will use AVN Award nominees as guinea pigs in my little game here. AVN stands for Adult Video News so figure it out.

Simple test: John Cena, Stormy Daniels

If you guessed that John Cena was the wrestler and Stormy Daniels was the porn star then bleh bleh bleh… you know the deal.

Mandingo, Fandango

Alexa Bliss, Alexa Grace

Tommy Gunn, Tyler Breeze, Curtis Axel, Axel Braun,

Sonya DeVille, Cherie Deville, Zack Ryder, Ryan Ryder

Asa Akira, Asuka, Abella Danger, Ruby Riott, Jules Jordan, Jason Jordan

Bo Dallas, Markus Dupree, Sasha Banks, Keisha Grey, Bella Rose, Mandy Rose

Foxxy, Alicia Fox, Aidra Fox, Nia Jax, Venus Lux, Tyler Bate (TYLER BATE?)*

Aliyah, Aaliyah Love, Natalia Starr, Violet Starr, Ember Moon, Mike Quasar

Rowan, Harper, Hunter, Rusev, Dredd, Mason, Big E, Danny D

I didn’t make any of these up. I either took them from the wikipedia for “List of WWE personnel” or “35th AVN Award”. And as far as me telling you who’s who. . . you’re on your own. Do a Google search. Do it at work, I don’t care. It’s not my job.



*I am being informed that Tyler Bate’s real name is Tyler Bate. Go figure.

Does this guy look like a porn star to you?

I’m Basically 40

My fortieth birthday is in three weeks. Officially that is when I turn forty years of age. I say “officially” because I pretty much am forty already.

Look at it this way: I’m 39 years and 343 days old today. Close enough.

I’ve made peace with it. I made peace with it long ago. Way back when I was twenty-seven, I was mortified at the idea that I would eventually be thirty. I’ve been staring down the barrel of forty ever since and it really doesn’t matter.

How little changed in those years. About me, that is. Not enough to suit me.

Right now, the zip is not on my fastball. Everything is hell. You are hell. I am hell. Nothing matters and the center will not hold. Good. I was always on the fringe. The bastards should drown like I will.

Happy birthday!

Green Tea & Ham

Green tea. . . one of the healthiest beverages on God’s grey Earth. It’s full of antioxidants that fight free radicals and stuff. It’s good for losing weight and good for the brain and a whole lot of other things.

I hate green tea. It tastes horrible. Don’t get me wrong. It’s drinkable, because I have drank it numerous times and I have enjoyed it a grand total of NEVER.

I didn’t buy a bottle of green tea from the store. Somebody made tea for me. They made a four-cup jar of green tea for me to drink whenever I want. I’ve had green tea both cold and warm. And both of them are horrible.

I will not drink it in my house. I will not drink it with a mouse.

I will not drink it here or there. I will not drink it anywhere.

I will not have another taste. I will not splash it on my face.

I will not drink it, Sam-I-am. I WILL NOT DRINK GREEN TEA, GODDAMN.

I want to live a long, healthy life but not this much.

If The Kids Are United

Do you want to believe? Do you want to have hope? Is hope even possible in this world?

Hope is granular. It comes in the smallest of possible doses. As we grow older, hope grows scarce. Schaudenfreude replaces hope. Bad things happening to bad people is the joy we have in the absence of hope.

Our spirit is broken, us “Xennials”, us born between 1977 and 1983. This was the time that workers wages stopped growing in relation to corporate profits. The national minimum wage is $7.25. Thirty-five years ago, the minimum wage was $3.35. With inflation, that works out to $8.35 in 2018.

I’ve had my soul crushed a million times in these forty years. If the kids are united, they will never be divided. Sham 69 said that. I’ve seen countless mass shootings. I’ve seen bombings. I saw 9/11. I saw the Challenger explode. I saw elections stolen right out from under the public’s noses. I’ve seen Kiss reunite and put on their dumb makeup. I saw the price of a college education skyrocket. I’ve seen so much go wrong.

My generation had our spirit broken a long time ago. I felt helpless and disenfranchised beyond belief. What could I do? I was a just a child when my innocence was lost.

If the kids are united they will never be divided. You take the reigns, kids. We thought our elders would give them to us and they didn’t. They were greedy and acted in bad faith. They lied and lied and made our brains freeze with befuddlement. We became sour and bitter.

For the first time, we were not given a better future than the generation before us. And so we could not give you a better future than we had. But hopefully our generation taught you how to be better people. And hopefully you learned by watching us. Learn from others’ mistakes.

Anne Frank believed that deep down people were really good at heart. She kept her ideals. They killed her and her family. She was but a child when her innocence and life were lost. Many people are bad at heart and embrace it.

If the kids are united they will never be divided.

The kids.

If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next

I hate you, you bastards.

What business does a 19-year-old have possessing an AR-15? Predisposition. It’s over. The dream is over. Love is not the saviour of the world. We can’t stop the murders so we don’t even attempt to contain them. What about Chicago? Whataboutchicagowhataboutchicago? Life is hell. The bandage has been ripped off America’s gangrenous wound and there’s no cleaning it. All your peroxide and ointment will not fix this. It’s beyond infection.

All civilizations build themselves up and raze themselves to the ground. I’m watching a raze that other seem to think is a re-building effort. Another civilization will rise up but you and I will not see it. Hopefully our children will get to see it and even build that new world. I’m sorry. Love is not the saviour of the world.

Killers in the midst. I hate you bastards because it didn’t have to be this way. And yet here we are.

If you tolerate this, then your children will be next.

The White House Landlord

I wish I was the landlord of the White House. I would call up the President at least three times a week and yell at him. “This is your landlord! I keep hearing loud noises over there! What are you doing? Are you dropping bowling balls on the floor? Do you have a dog? You’re not supposed to have a dog! That’s on the lease! You signed it!”

I know there’s no such thing as a White House landlord. I assume Trump doesn’t know it so he would go along with it because he doesn’t know any better. Of course, his staff knows there’s no White House landlord and I’m surprised they haven’t tried this yet unless they have and it hasn’t hit the press yet.

I can see Sarah Sanders totally trying this. Trying to disguise her voice calling Trump’s personal number from an unlisted phone. But she wouldn’t do it well. Her father is not very funny and that’s hereditary. “This is your landlord. Is your Prince Albert in cans?” She would mess even that up.

Seb Gorka would try this probably. “Mister President, if your toilet is running why don’t you catch it?” Then he’d bust into laughter like Jimmy Fallon, forgetting that he’d blown the entire setup of the prank. These people are stupid. It’s embarrassing.

Hope Hicks has a giant bush.

A Riot of My Own

Sunday was fair to decent. The Patriots lost the Super Bowl. Everyone hates Justin Timberlake now. Also, the Patriots lost the Super Bowl. This gives me a warm feeling inside.

Philadelphia beat New England to win the Super Bowl, their first ever SB and their first NFL championship of any kind since the JFK administration. As you might imagine, the town dubbed “Filthydelphia” handled this victory with a high level of class and dignity.



God help me but the cracker part of me loves a good sports riot and Philadelphia did not disappoint me. A man ate horse manure voluntarily. Because his team won the big game. I hate “sportsball” and “handegg” jokes as much as anybody else but nobody will dig into animal excrement if Guillermo Del Toro wins the Best Director Oscar.

Looking at this riot footage, I have to ask: where are the fathers?

Why are these young white men destroying their own property? They’re just hurting their own neighbors with all this property damage. And for what purpose? Such a barbaric, savage response to. . . victory.

And the profanity! Must you use such language to make your point, Philadelphia fans?

I know this seems like a bash of one particular city but trust me it would happen in Boston had the Patriots won. It’s not an exclusively white phenomenon, but it mostly white people who engage in this sort of activity. No black guy would ever eat horse shit, I don’t care how drunk he gets. Only white guys would chant “BIG DICK NICK” to celebrate the team’s quarterback. Only white guys could get away with standing on the Ritz-Carlton hotel awning en masse.

Black people can’t even huddle together and dance in the street while somebody holds up a boombox without the red and blues showing up. Meanwhile, you got  white people flipping cars and tearing down light poles. Would you really blame the cops if they just started thwapping every white guy in a Eagles jersey with their batons?

But so help me I love it. It’s my Real Housewives trainwreck must-view. I was glued to the Philadelphia police scanner after the game. It was a glorious trainwreck. It took a lot of effort by the authorities there to contain all that action.

The main thing I want you to take away is this: Justin Timberlake is terrible and has always been terrible. I have hated him ever since he was in N*Sync and I will never stop hating him. When he or his career finally dies, perhaps I will be like these Eagles fans and flip cars and destroy property. Out of sheer joy, obviously.

Good News When You Tell Me You Love Me

Suggested listening: “Good News” by the Fifth Dimension

Once upon a time long ago, Rhino Records held a vinyl record sale in their parking lot. Aisles and aisles of records out in the warm weekend sun, with a wrestling ring (!) in the middle of the lot. Occasionally, two luchadores would come out to have a match to entertain shoppers. I saw one such match and attempted to give them a record to use as a weapon in the match but was refused. One of the records I bought that afternoon was “Stoned Soul Picnic” by the Fifth Dimension. It’s a great album and you should try to find it if possible, with songs by Laura Nyro, Jimmy Webb and Ashford & Simpson.

“Stoned Soul Picnic” has a song on it titled “Good News”, which was written by Don and Dick Addrisi. The best way to describe it musically is like a proto-“Raspberry Beret” with a funky uptempo beat with a string section over the top. This is a poor description and if/when you ever hear “Good News” you’ll think I’m being ridiculous. Just listen to the chorus and tell me what you think.

I keep thinking about “Good News” because I have good news in my life. I’ve gone a whole month without any soft drinks/sodas/pops. As a result, I’ve lost twenty (!) pounds.

Since I’m not drinking soda, I’m not eating potato chips nearly as much. Less sodium, less caffeine. I’m making slightly healthier choices in my diet. I’m getting more dairy, drinking chocolate milk (mostly because I can’t stand regular milk). The orthopedic doctor told me to drink milk every day to help heal my ankle but not soy or almond milk because that won’t help with osteoporosis or fixing a ankle fracture.

I’m mobile which is good for someone in my current situation. Up and about with the boot when I have to go out. I take my crutches with me in case of emergency or inclement weather. I feel better. My skin looks better. I’m not sludgey or dragged down nearly as much as before.

I said I wanted to go at least six months without soda and I’m pretty damn sure I can do it. I don’t miss it nearly as much as I thought I would. Part of why is because of my health but also because I tend to avoid things that make me feel bad and the last few weeks of soda pop made me feel terrible. My stomach hated me for it.

I’m beginning to feel like I can actually live a better life and that excites me. The possibility of making real permanent changes for the better gives me hope that I didn’t have before. I’m putting in the work. I’m on the path and it feels good.

This is definitely the year that I really work on myself. Everything else takes a backseat for the time being. I want to do it now so I won’t be too sick to do it in the future. Four words that I finally have the confidence to say: I can do it.

Good news when I tell me I love me. I’ll put my world back together again.