things to do instead of crying:

1)be grateful you didnt join the marines on 9/12, 2)eat a bucket of pudding 3)remember that you’ll die soon 4)listen to ac/dc’s powerage 5)remember that tsar plays on wednesday 6)remember that the cubs play tomorrow and mr kerry wood is on the mound 7)be grateful that you dont have a penis the size of karisa’s pinkie finger 8)be happy that youre not donald rumsfeld 9)be happy that youre not a khurd 10)be grateful that theres maybe four girls who would do you right now with one simple phone call and one is reading on your leather couch waiting to take you to her beachside hideaway.

one reason you should read the busblog in addition to the others is that i dont whine and bitch and cry in my beer even when very sad situations rear their ugly rears and even though he found his solace in less spiritual places than i do, i have to credit the patron saint of the busblog for my typically sunny disposition. and that saint of course is mr charles bukowski formerly of hollywood california. formerly of only a few blocks away from where i type to you this very gloomy sad monday.

st bukowski took the punches as they came and punched back but never in a sad way, rarely in a somber way, never with a tear. he didnt like to even acknowledge when very bad things happened to him, and if he did, he did it in a way that made you feel like yes he was victimized in some small way but that only meant that it gave him a good excuse to do what he loved which was moving on and drinking.

sadly im no drinker. except for this bottle of oh yes rum. the couch sitter girl swears she has tequila and is reading quietly. she looks like a younger linda evangelista. but better eyes. bukowski never had ass like this. ever. he never had half the things ive had and i dont even have a car.

we’re listening to powerage and angus im imagining is playing behind his back and its cheering me up. im thinking about how my buddy greg vaine would plug his telecaster into a battery operated mini amplifier and march around our atwater village home and play along with angus malcom and bon during the darkest period of the history of rock, in the days after kurdt died.

the alleve worked during the day but this generic stuff isnt worth crap. we’re going to do laundry she just announced and is piling my things into my hampers. shes a good girl. crazy about elvis. likes horses. and dumbshits too.

my buddy ian who i never get to see outside of tsar gigs reminded me that in hiring all those hundreds of people that i gave so many people a chance at this upcoming ipo who wouldnt normally get a chance at something like this.

he didnt mean just people in general. he meant that i didnt hire busloads of fratboys. i hired people of all walks who might not have gotten a job anywheres let alone the number one company in westwood at the time. ian reminded me that i had a knack of seeing the good in people and reminding them that thats why i hired them and that i also had a knack of seeing the bullshit in others and not letting them get through the door, thus protecting the good kids of the world a chance to rock unmolested.

and its true. i was good at finding good people. and i was good at keeping good people. and i was good at stealing good people from other places. and attracting strangers to the crazy little place that we all called home for a while. and the funny thing is, no matter how good i did at that gig there were some very smart, im telling you, very smart people who not only didnt think that i was good at what i was getting paid for, but they had no respect for me.

and if theres a lesson here its dont pay attention to those people because they will – i dont want to say “make” – but they will influence your decisions in ways that you wouldnt normally think.

for example. lets say you have this great hat. omg you love this hat and so do all your friends. all it takes is one asshole to say you’re really going to wear that? and they will say something else so stupid and mean and probably completely wrong and it will ring in your ears and every time you see that hat you will think of that classic line that ms. dipshit said and you wont wear the hat to the big dance like you shoulda and your life will be changed because your desicionmaking was influenced.

and ive always said it but dont listen to the fucking idiots, listen to the kids. the kids know whats up and theyre rarely wrong, but when theyre wrong at least its a fun sort of wrong like sniffing lens cleaner or going to coachella in the 105 degree heat.

my girl says that its time to go so i guess its time to go. just know i love ya and i will be better in the morn and if i bummed you out i didnt mean to. and i will give these comments another week and if the greatgood people of blogger dont figure out how to make these things 1)less sucky 2)able to link your name to your website/blog with one click 3)able to delete comments without a trace, then we will go back to Haloscan until Blogger gets it together.

but if you know one thing about me it’s that im loyal. blogger has been very very good to not only me but to you too, and what they pulled off the other day, in my opinion was a way bigger improvement to their free program/service than ever before. so we owe them a little time to tweak out the rough spots. just like how you’re cool with me when im not totally perfect.

and i know if i was cut a check for two hundred grand that i would just blow it on midgets elephants and hos anyway as i directed the next tsar video, when i shoulda just paid off my moms house.

so all of this worked out just fine.

bicycle mark + wikipedia + sksmith