Happy Birthday, Honest Abe

There’s a lot of things that you can find on a lot of sites, but I doubt that many can boast such a sweet winkin lincoln as this.

I know that we didn’t hit upon too much Black History Month today, but today is Fat Tuesday and I’m a little hung from partying last night and interviewing one of the finest Black female web designers around. Just so happens that she is 21, single, and living large in Dallas, TX. I’m hoping to have the interview up tonight, but now her site is down for renovations, so I hope that it will be up soon, and when it is, so will be the Q & A.

Also Ashley has a few days off so she’s heading into town to share Valentine’s Day with me. Can you believe that she has never had a Valentine? All the previous Valentines that I have had will attest that I am not the best one you could settle for, but I suppose a mediocre one is better than none at all.

On a different topic, I agree with Sara that the Dog Show is mighty spectacular. And Joe Garagiola is funnier than ever. A television event totally worthy of Sweeps Week. No joke.

To The Would-Have-Beens: And on a sadder note, Greg’s Blog reminds us that today would have been Popsicko / Glitterbug / Wonderfuls front man Keith Brown’s 33rd birthday. The Wonderfuls, I am not ashamed to say it, was my favorite band in IV. Take two members of Tsar, add Greg and Keith and you must admit, it’s mighty hard to top. I am so grateful to have lived with Whalen and Greg in LA during Popsicko’s last days because I doubt I would have ventured out to places like Raji’s to watch them open for bands like Butt Trumpet (who were suprisingly spectacular).

The legend goes that Keith was either on heroin or coming off it, or there was some of it in him and it made him drowsy and he crashed his car while driving back from LA to Santa Barbara and he died.

So, needless to say, don’t drink and drive, dont do drugs and drive. Dont be sleepy and drive. Please pull over and get your Z’s.

When me and Jeanine lived together Popsicko had their practice studio right across the street and I spent many an afternoon with my tv set down playing Sega listening to them practice the tunes of their first album and loving life. Keith had those guys going over every damn note, meticulously.

Popsicko.com is now a tribute to this undisputed rock star worthy of many shrines.

sometimes it isnt even worth the kilobytes, but what the hell

fuck you fellas for sending that old gray ghost at me every morning. if he doesnt write this in the reports, heres what really happens at least once a week.

i lose him at the ralphs, i lose him at the rite aid, i lose him at wilshire and vermont, or i lose him at wilshire western.

ralphs is the easiest. it has two back doors, two mens rooms in the back area, all those aisles, all those people. rite aid has a front door and a back door and no one in there in the mornings so he can’t hide so he watches me go in the front and waits for me to go out the back. this is a child’s game and i never lose so who’s the child?

i saw you moved him in down the block. it was i who put up the “Convicted Child Molester” document on his front door last friday and laughed and laughed as it stayed up there all day saturday and all day sunday, only to be ripped down sunday evening when he got back from his weekend at his boyfriends. not that theres anything wrong with that, but theres something pisspoor about lack of professionalism and willingness to fail.

i got out of bed 10 minutes early this morning and didnt see him anywhere. saw your boy the tall marine instead. why do you all carry so much in your packs? gray hair has a backpack that is bursting, marine carries a dufflebag. how are you going to catch up to me at the wilshire fairfax 99 cent store that has a front and back door with a duffle bag through those narrow aisles? gray guy has a limp, now marine has a limp cuz i pay the bums behind Johnnies to bash their knees with a crowbar and when i worked for you i didnt get paid shit and i give those guys $20 each to crowbar your best men and $20 more if i see a limp and guess what, i give bonuses on top of that.

you trained me, you fucked with me, you lost me, you lose me.

some bright boy tried to put a bug in my water heater (!) and when i couldnt get a bunch of really hot water, guess what the mexican maintenence man found? a waterproof listening device with your signature all over it. didnt i see that at the Detective Store at Fisherman’s Wharf, but it doesnt sell, cuz it never worked. merle, it still doesnt work

i dont mind the attention, i mind the lack of respect. it’s embarrasing. it’s insulting.

you know what i’d like to see, you know what would be class? here’s what i would do if i were you: find out what the perp likes. do something that slightly alters his behavoir – and no, not a hot chick. let’s say he takes a certain bus at a certain time because he likes the driver or a passenger or an individual bus that’s clean or always empty. and then when you want to fuck with him, have his favorite busdriver turn to him one day as he’s flashing his pass, and say, “good morning, sonny.”

and that, i promise you, will ruin that fucker’s day.

now go jerk off and yell and stew, just like you always do.