the good dr. hunter s. thompson

wrote a peice today for where he talks about the Colts and the elections.

here is an excerpt:

“The Summer is over

the harvest is in,

and we are not saved.”

— Jeremiah 8:20

Well, the election is over now, and I was pitifully wrong on my public prediction about the outcome. George W. Bush won handily; and my friend, John Kerry, lost by three percentage points — which was every bit as big in a vicious presidential election as it was on the football field last night when the low-riding Indianapolis Colts kicked a last-second field goal to beat Minnesota 31-28…

I am no stranger to the anguish of losing a presidential campaign, and this very narrow loss with John Kerry is no exception. It hurt, as always, but it didn’t hurt as much as that horrible beating we took with George McGovern in 1972. That was by 22 points, the worst defeat in any presidential campaign since George Washington ran for a second term in 1787.

And the winner that year was a conquering hero named Richard Nixon, who got whacked out of office two years later because he was a crook. We had a very angry Democratic majority in the Senate that year, which is not the case now.

No. Today, the Panzer-like Bush machine controls all three branches of our federal government, the first time that has happened since Calvin Coolidge was in the White House. And that makes it just about impossible to mount any kind of Congressional investigation of a firmly-entrenched president like George Bush.

The time has come to get deeply into Football. It is the only thing we have left that ain’t fixed. And more on that next week.

today it appears that either the panzer-like bush machine has finally fallen apart the same way the bluesmobile died at the end of the film.

but i agree with the doc, its time to get dirty with football.

i only wish that my teams werent playing over their heads and arent poised for implosion.

so my attentions slip into hoops where i was loving the fact that kobe got booed last night at the american music awards just a few miles away from staples center

cuz not only does he deserve to be booed for being the bitchpin that dismantled a strong team, but he should know that here in hollywood we have enough award-presenters, what we’re looking for is the next michael jordan

and if youre not it, driver 8, then take a break, we can reach our destination, but we’re still a ways away.

h/t bicycle mark + paul davidson + fimoculous

its called CopyPod

it lets you “back up” your iPod to a computer. yes, even your PC computer.

this is especially useful if youre sending your iPod in for repairs.

or if you’d like to play your iPod music at your work computer.

or in your helicopter.

apparently it was mentioned in the Wall Street Journal.

well now it’s being mentioned in the busblog, so it’s reached the big time.

CopyPod is shareware, meaning that it’s free for the first two weeks and if you like it it’s $9.50.

let me know if you have used it, just started using it, are thinking about using it. cuz this is the answer for those of us who need such a bit of software and dont have a Mac.

flagrant + raymi + radical georgia moderate + colin quilts

i would like to thank all of you

for putting up with all these reruns as i compile my new blook.

tonight will be my last night blowing off family and friends as i put together this nightmare. i truly despise going back in time. very little pleasure in looking under old boulders to see whats under there.

this might be the last blook i make by myself. yes i had help last year from sepi but i still had to read what she picked and it was a chore. what i need next time is someone to collect them, edit them, arrange them and send them over to cafepress so that i dont even have to think about it.

and when that blook comes out i bet you i wont read it.

tonight i have to do the graphic for the cover and for the spine. it should take about 1 minute because there will be no pictures for the cover or the spine. keeping it real with the j.d. salinger no pictures rule.

after some soul searching we’re back up to 200 pages. mostly 2003 posts. around five political peices. id say its a funny collection. psychedelic. spell-checked. totally ready to get picked up by a serious publisher after the new year rings in, if one exists.

on friday i was pitched a job idea. the dude said that he would try to get me an interview this week. it’s for a magazine. one that i already subscribe to and love. my job would not be to write but to edit, which thrills me. id also be doing a little bit of recruiting, trying to get good writers to submit.

submit i will tell them. submit!

i think i can do that.

so after tonight i can get back to my real life. i can call my old kindegarten – high school best friend who hunted me down last week. i can call zulieka unstrung who has moved to hollywood. and i can go back to letting my hands and arms rest from the carpal.

went grocery shopping with one sexy chick last night.

i will never stop loving her.

jarvis catches the fcc in one of those exaggerations + colin powell quits + kitty bukkake

i lost a bet and had to be karisas friend in the spring of 1998

i coulda won a lowered chevy citation, but you wont hear me complaining. born on a pontoon boat off frisco, i first met karisa at the dairy queen in mundelion. she worked the drive thru. she kicked ass at dipping your cone into the chocolate sauce and getting it hard real fast.

certified genius and future farmer of america karisa is the oldest of nine girls each born two years apart from the next.

her youngest sister is ten.

when i first saw her i have to admit, i thought, i could make a ton of money off that shit. but i was lazy and illprepared. she has a photogentic memory, the liver of a bear, the nerve of a backyard possum, and the strength of a nasty fart. but shes quick on her feet and knows eight languages so i keep her around in case i need verification that someone called me an asshole in mandarin.

people ask all the time and since im now married i can tell the truth and admit that yes ive kissed karisa three times.

the first time was the night that the patriots were handed that snowy playoff game at foxburough. i had 50 bucks on the raiders and i was forced to pay up but i didnt have the money so they made me kiss karisa who had been eating philly cheesesteaks with extra onions throughout the fourth quarter. this was during the time that she was smoking a pack of marlboro reds a day. more when she was drinking. right before she puckered up someone handed her a toasty warm slice of garlic bread. truth is more pungent than fiction.

after the count reached ten she removed her tounge from my mouth and a tear rolled down my face and they said dont cry the raiders will come back next year but it was the onions. onions always make me cry. i spit a tiny one at the tv and dabbed at my face with a viva.

you know that shit was a fumble.

afterward she kissed my cheek and whispered that the raiders just sucked and i needed to deal with it. and then she threw me into pool.

the final time we kissed was in a cab ride coming home from marc browns house after the zwan show on four twenty of last year. we were drunk off our ass cuz the mc had just tossed a rager and she and i drained every bottle of champagne in the house and i had done some damage on the captain morgans singlehandedly.

we were sliding around the backseat of the cab as he screeched around the corners of hollywood driving as fast as humanly possible and on the long stretch up vermont into the griffth park hills of her hideaway we realized that we’d known each other all these years and we hadnt really kissed. ever. not real ones at least.

neither of us wanted to do it. what if it ruined our perfect friendship. what if it came to the surface during an xbi mindreading. what if she, like all the others, fell in love with me and could no longer be trusted or counted on as a peer.

and before we could talk ourselves out of it our dude took a quick turn and we slid into each others arms and went for it.

and if i wasnt so fucked up that night perhaps i could tell you if it was any good.

which is maybe why i dont drink any more.

and maybe why karisa is always trying to get me wasted.

happy birthday rock idol home improver beastie girler do it yourselfer off road driver ms pacman loser.

maybe one day you’ll shed your shyness learn how to hold your booze and let your hair down.

until then i promise to keep photoshopping your pics so you look halfway hot.

happy birthday karisa, thanks for hanging in there with me