and all weekend they showed the south park movie on comedy central completely uncut. even i was a little shocked to here fuck on plain old cable tv.

and equally blown away to hear uncle fucker, that toe tapping ditty, which came across as ten times more dangerous on tv than in the movies. and i love weird powers like that. i love that movie and one day we’ll hear the president say fuck and you know, maybe one day they’ll have boobies on tv. and you know what i’ll do that day? i’ll say fuck.

im watching this country special on trio. thank you canada for trio. its making me love hank sr. that much more, even though its pretty impossible. and its also making me love elvis a little more.

did you know that tsar is gonna play saturday night at the best club in los angeles at ten o’clock and theyre going to rock your face off.

did you know that i accepted an invitation to attend a wedding yesterday which i dont typically do because im not a big fan of weddings but these two are pretty awesome kids but i forgot to ask if i could bring a plus one, and i asked karisa if she would like to come and she said yes yes i like all your friends so now i gotta work on that.

the whalen brothers just invited me to come over and sit on their porch, that sounds fun.

pat got on the phone and he said, there are men pushing carts here, there are cars being worked on, there are trees providing shade. we’ve all gone without sleep.

if i had a talk show called bloggers and raymi was the ed mcmahon, pat would be the star of the show.

theres only two people who could single handedly make you forget about the busblog if they started a blog.

the first would be mr. pat whalen

the other would be his younger brother jeff.

thankfully theyre content simply being rockstars instead.

ok the country music special is over.

time to call rosalita from the showerphone.

the day the bulls called bullshit + a year ago + hula hoopers

i dont know what to do with myself today. i hafta do laundry. i should just do that. but i dont wanna. its summer. its sunday. its the end of a nice long weekend. thanks fourth of july for giving me all this time to rest and write and be with my friends. best thing i coulda ever done was rent that car this weekend and i did and everything has worked out so well.

last night i was at a bar and several of the ladies were laughing about how long its been since theyve gotten any and i was thinking how can i make this all work out for everyone. but alas, life isnt the porno that we wish it was. maybe one day. maybe one day.

would it be a good thing to be able to cut off your feelings of emotion and just be able to have sex with hot chicks because theres sex to be had. is that maturation or is that tumbling down to the sins of the flesh? and why are flesh sins any worse than any other sins?

ive been known to wish death and or injury upon some people? havent we all? arent we all wishing some sort of harm upon osama and saddam and dubya and george steinbrenner? we’re righteous about our reasons but theyre still rooted in revenge and evil and judgement. is that any worse than wanting to make a girls nipples get hard with something you learned way back in the day?

if im going to be judged as a tool, and if youre going to call it a tool, then why not put me to work.

thats all i want to know.

i do the most ridiculous things and put up with the most insulting situations for that dolla, and yet i get so damn moral about who i bone and who i dont and when and why and how and no wonder im losing my hair.

sunday sunday and this is why the bible didnt ever say once that preachers need to be unmarried and celibate, because not every question can be answered by a guy who doesnt get any, which is why i havent replied to all of your emails

yet.

cubs are getting spanked by the cardinals and look at that corey patterson just blew out his knee.

and this girl writes me almost every day and lately shes been saying that if she didnt have her boyfriend things would be so much different and i agree but different doesnt always mean better. sometimes different means worse. sometimes different is a curse. i bought $150 worth of bukowski books for $90 with some slush fund hush money. this summer i think id rather read than go to concerts.

and now instantly the skies opened up at wrigley and dumped a ton of rain and just as fast the sun makes an encore and the bleacher bums are cheering and corey isnt hurt that bad after all and its hot here in la but not butt hot keep windows open hot and i think im going to see if karisa is gonna hang out at the pool today cuz if she is maybe i’ll do laundry over there.

plus she has some juicy gossip to whisper in my ear.

circa 77 + dawn olsen + congratulations katie and matt

happy birthday.

do you know i love you? i do.

whats not to love about a country where anyone can be anything they want?

or do any damn thing they want?

right now i could buy a gun.

thats pretty cool.

right now i could buy a shitload of drugs.

all kinds.

right now i could download any song ever recorded.

right now theres about a dozen five dolla hos within walking distance from my badass abode.

ok. maybe only a half dozen. but theyre hot.

i love living in america. even though there are speed limits.

i know when gen x starts infiltrating congress all this dumb shit will go away. and radio is bound to get better.

karisa reminded me the other day that i hadnt been shut out for two months. that there was that college girl.

and even though she was grossed out when she saw my birthcertificate that said 1888 and i havent seen her since, i still love you, america.

she was pretty hot too.

i love you america for the beastie boys, janes addiction, the replacements, and tsar.

i love you for mtv and espn and directv

and the world wide fuckin web.

theres countries where people are still trying to figure out what to do with the womenfolk and we’ve got wireless highspeed broadband in central park. for free.

b.

i love you america for getting it about religion.

we still might be a little fucked up about race, but nobodys getting shot at for which church they dont go to.

its true that im not so crazy about christmas mangers being yanked because theyre on public property, but i like why they’re taken away, and im amazed at the foresight of the founders for being so punk rock as to seperate church and state so clearly.

and im born again.

i love america for mcdonalds and pizza hut and jack in the crack and six foot bongs.

water slides and weenie roasts, kfc and kamikazee toasts.

america, the best collaboration of black and white since shooting stars.

thank you for country, than you for rock, than you for jazz, and thanks for inventing hip hop right before our eyes

thanks for the simpsons and nirvana and howard stern and madonna.

seven-11 bob dylan happy birthday america

youre still cold chillin.

tina + raymi + happy birthday sarah

the heat blows through my bedroom window and makes itself comfortable. i have no heater and no a/c in this hollywood bungalow and sometimes i need a little fan.

and sometimes i need a little space heater but im about to rent a beater and drive around tonight with the windows down and count the shooting stars and think about ice cream bars, theres drumsticks and popsicles and bomb pops and push ups and strawberry shortcakes and chocolate eclairs, mickey mouses, choco tacos

the ones with the gumballs on the bottom, the ones with the quarters in the middle, the ones with the peanuts on the top.

ice cream sandwiches and eskimo pies. soft serve. triple scoop.

when i was a kid and this is how long ago ive been walking around, they used to have at baskin robbins this thing called the super heater, three scoops of ice cream, hot chocolate, nuts and whipped cream in a cup for ninety nine cents and it seemed like a lot of money and it seemed like a lot of ice cream, but it was four video games so i would always think about the super heater but i would always pass.

except once when my mom bought me one after grocery shopping. and i couldnt believe my amazing luck.

i need a new pair of shorts. all i have are swim trunks which are fun to wear as shorts in the summer but chris always rolls her eyes when i wear em.

its hot, hi summer. if i was smart i would shut the windows and turn this thing back into a cave. a cool dark cave where the lovely ladies in their summer dresses will sit down and cross their legs and try to act all demure but my demure detector doesnt overheat

like my candy bag on top of the microwave

next to the window.

emmanuelle meets starsky + the correct way to begin a blog + jaime has a good story + tell me you like the movie.

use the force, take what the defense gives you.

i know this. i KNOW this. still i fight it. tony dumbass to the rescue.

karisa and i have a complete friendship based around this way of life and still i forget this theme. chopper one. drunnk golfing. absolute marksmanship. sega nhlpa hockey. making love. making lust. playing shortstop. even writing in this damn blog has always been about taking it easy, taking myself out of it and going with the flow, and still i forget that sometimes and get upset when things dont go precisely the way i envision it, and i apologize to the universe for being a fallen tree branch in the river of life and messing with the stream of rock.

today i got into the office and there was an email from the commander telling us that we were to go code phil collins starting this evening.

that meant we were to go solo.

he’s old.

if i ran the show i would call it code beyonce but i dont want to run the show. i just want to do my part.

what it means is that we have information that the offices are unsafe. that shit will go down. that we have to take any work home with us. that we cant call into the office. that we cant be teamed up with partners. that i have to take chopper one to the hangar tonight and take a cab home.

putting one plus one together we deduced that the guy who is ratting us out to the fbi and the press didnt get found by us yet and has started narcing and the wrong person is going to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time so we’re making like trees and vamoosing.

so the boss told us to phil collins today and tomorrow and we take the fourth off cuz we love this country and i dont work weekends so it looks like im going to be like styx and have too much time on my hands.

fortunately i have nothing to do this weekend and i have a few friends who might want to do something, like my old roommate sam. and karisas friend ditch is in town with mikey muscles so i might have to take them to a titty bar on one of the nights that shes gonna do a girls night out with her ladies.

it sucks cuz i wanted to get ditch drunk and take him up in chopper one but everything needs to be on lockdown while the stoolie is on the loosie.

and you know what i really want right now?

i want a venice beach hot dog, and a vanilla soft serve dipped in that magic chocolate and i want to keep on reading Moneyball, and i want to just go with the flow

cuz the flow is good.

and im still the luckiest motherfucker from here to gardenia.

the bikini diaries + brit coal + anartic waste +dicta

cuz we were starving and it was hot and together all we ever do is fuck the law.

since she was driving i could take pictures and white girls with long hair who put in hip hop and sing along can be pretty cute.

probably for two years i didnt look at karisa and that it seems worked out real nice because today i realized that right now she is probably my best friend.

i talk to her more than anyone. i listen to her advice. i love being with her. and if theres one person who knows where im at right now its probably her.

she was driving so fast that the cops couldnt possibly see us and we were at pf changs before the sun went down.

probably ninety percent of the things that ive ever done with karisa were set up through email.

weird if you think about it cuz we’ve done a shitload of things.

thats weird too. cuz most of the things that weve done were so fun that they havent sunk in yet.

i have the weirdest life, america. we ate like pigs at pf changs. and we drank. then we went across town and drank and played darts and listened to good jukebox music. all these boys filled up the machine but her selections were the best. sexpistols, classic vh, doors, ramones, zep

i kicked her ass at both games of darts. she’d bend over to pick up a fallen dart and try to cover her back so we couldnt see her underwear and i was thinking who … what…

she used to joke that everyone in the xbi had seen her underwear back when we worked together. and if you were at the powerhouse last night you woulda seen london and france.

she kept holding her belly cuz we ate so much and there we were splitting a pitcher of natty light in a seedy hollywood divebar who had no a/c and was so hot that the girls were glowing as u2 played and people laughed and summer you couldnta come at a better time.

my friends went camping + a tiny movie that greg and i made + nay