Under the knife...again

Well, tomorrow at 5:30am I report to a local hospital to have hopefully the last surgery on my left foot. The doc will be inserting a rod into my ankle to stabilize it and fuse it into place. It'll take three hours and probably 4-5 days of recovery. Hopefully the dilauded will ease my pain and make the hospital stay that much more comfortable. I'll be back y'all. Later...until next week.

Testicle Tuesday...scream queens pt 2

As I divulged last week I'm an unabashed fan of horror movies. I'm an even bigger fan of the saucy little tarts that are a mainstay of the genre. Last week I brought you some lesser known vixens but this week is the creme de la creme of modern horror hotness, the holy triumverate of contemporary horror. Enjoy you sickos!


I've had an ongoing crush on Neve Campbell for ten years. Her face is timeless and her body utter perfection. She graced the screen in the Scream movies and was dead sexy to boot. On a personal note to Ms. Campbell...Will you marry me?



Our next scream queen is Jennifer Love Hewitt. She spiced up the silver screen in I Know What You Did Last Summer, and the sequal, I Still Know... She's still a tasty morsel, huh.


Naomi Watts burst into our collective consciousness in The Ring and The Ring II, not to mention King Kong and a number of other movies. Ms. Watts is one of the hottest and most talented actresses on the planet...and she's all ours, for a week.



Next week the quintessential scream queen who started it all...

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Man I could use a drink because of a shit day (don't ask)! So, since I love lists and alcohol I bring you the best mixed drinks ever (values given are either ounces or shots)…

1. Long Island Iced Tea-mix vodka, rum, tequila, gin, triple sec, and a shot of cola. After six or eight of these you’ll forget your troubles…and likely your own name.
2. Grey goose vodka or Finlandia (2 at least), orange juice, and a shot of gin…mmmmmmm, tasty
3. Manhattan-1 ½ blended whiskey and ¾ sweet vermouth…very tasty and potent
4. Cape Cod-a generous portion of vodka with cranberry juice (primarily for coloring), and a splash of orange juice.
5. Corkscrew-1 ½ light rum, ½ dry vermouth, ½ peach brandy.
6. Kamikaze-vodka, triple sec, lime juice…use a lot of vodka
7. Tequila Sunrise-2 tequila, 1 grenadine, orange juice…yummy.
8. Orgasm-mix equal parts of vodka, amaretto, kahlua, and Baily’s Irish Cream.
9. Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and Coke…this was my plasma in college and law school.
10. Hot Toddy-use whiskey, rum, and/or kahlua, add boiling water and sugar…great for winter nights and a day on the ski slopes.

Bwahahahahaha

So, looks like the eastern parts are getting pounded by a blizzard, canceling over 2,000 flights nation wide. Bwahahahaha, it's gonna be 70 here in Denver suckas! I think I might go have a big juicy steak for lunch, then go to the park or tool around my neighborhood looking for garage sales. Later you frozen nor-eastern beeeyatches!

Testicle Tuesday...scream queens

Anyone who's known me for more than five minutes knows about my horror movie obsession. I love the genre. So here are a few contemporary yet undiscovered scream queens from a few decent horror flicks.

Eliza Dushku has been in several films, most notably my favorite horror film of 2003, Wrong Turn. Damn if she ain't sexy!


Maggie Grace was a part of the Lost cast before summarily getting killed off. But she looked ever so yummy in the 2005 remake of the classic The Fog.


Gine Phillips brought some much needed sexuality to what was otherwise an ultimately forgetable Jeepers Creepers.


Next week, the holy triumverate of modern scream queens...

Testicle Tuesday...the Charmed ones

Everyone has their own guilty pleasure television habits. Mine happen to be The Real World on MTV, The Apprentice, and Charmed. Wanna know a big reason why I like Charmed, just scroll down knuckleheads.

Shannon Doherty gained initial fame on Beverly Hills 90210, then followed by turning into a nightclub bunny who's take swings at anyone. Then she starred on Charmed before they killed off her character. RIP Pru.


As Doherty's erstwhile replacement Rose McGowan spiced up the show with her own unique brand of hotness. She gained infamy by accompanying Marylin Manson to the Oscars dressed only in dental floss, God love her and her curves.


Allysa Milano was a most revered child actress on Who's the Boss, then later dropped her top on numerous occasions before her role as Pheobe. Good golly she's just smokin' hot.


Believe it or not my favorite Charmed girl is Piper, a.k.a. Holly Marie Combs. I always thought she was a gorgeous witch but then I saw some of her pics. Whoa, if she isn't yummy.

The Oscars...again

Ordinarily I detest recycling old material but as the eve of the Academy Awards groes weary I bring you the only awards show I want to see, as written by yours truly last year. Enjoy!

Dave Chappelle is host. Instead of a Billy Crystal song-and-dance number we get Chappelle firing up a blunt, inhaling to his heart’s delight, and cracking jokes about Scarlet Johansson’s cleavage, Jack Nicholson’s hair, and Jim Carrey’s dopey grin.

The first award is handed out. Russell Crowe is presenter, handing out the best supporting actress award. Angelina Jolie wins for Alexander, not for her performance but for the way she fills out a toga and because her breasts need more “support” than anyone’s in Hollywood, save the late Marlon Brando. She climbs the stairs and is greeted by a full on tongue filled smooch from the Aussie. The camera pans to Brad Pitt who looks like he wants to kick Crowe’s ass but knows he’d get his face caved in. And millions of African children rejoice, because they just might get Jolie naked after the adoption proceedings.

Dave Chappelle comes back out carrying a forty. He cracks more jokes about white people, black people, and Hispanics. He looks straight at the camera and tells Comedy Central to kiss his narrow black ass.

The next award is presented. Nicole Richie presents the award for Most Dubious Example of a No-Talent Living off Daddy’s Legacy. Before Richie gets to the microphone she spots arch rival and one time party confidant Paris Hilton in the third row, where third rate celebs belong, and bolts into the audience where an epic cat fight ensues. Chappelle rushes out from backstage, not to break up the fight, to inflate the pool where the lime Jell-O goes for the donnybrook.

As the towel boys clean off Hilton & Richie, Chappelle grabs the mic and jokes about Oprah’s huge head, Lindsay Lohan’s weight fluctuation, and R Kelley’s salacious personal habits. “R Kelley looked for a date for this gig for hours…he was combing the high schools all afternoon.” Rumors that Michael Jackson was seen with a bottle of wine at the elementary school across the street are unsubstantiated.

Kim Bassinger attempts to present the next award but is so incoherently drunk she can barely walk. An obviously flabbergasted Alec Baldwin runs up on stage to carry off the blonde bombed shell.

Matt Lauer of NBC’s Today show walks out on stage with Tom Cruise and Brooke Shields. Cruise professes that he is now a born again Christian as he’s seen heaven between Katie Holmes’ thighs.

A camera goes back stage and finds Kate Moss doing lines of cocaine. Dave Chappelle looks a bit bewildered, “Bitch, marijuana’s way better.”

Vin Diesel takes the stage to present the award for muscle flexion but sees that stupid smug look on Sean Penn’s face and immediately flies off stage and sweeps the carpet with Penn’s head just for general principle.

Chris Rock assumes MC duty as Dave Chappelle has apparently disappeared. Rock proceeds with a profanity laced tirade that offends everyone except Collin Farrell, Sean Connery, and Ewan McGregor, because Farrell is Irish and Connery and McGregor are Scottish.

Arnold Schwarzeggar presents the next award for bad actors who should be politicians. The nominees are; Ben Affleck, Alec Baldwin, and Stephen Baldwin. Arnold refuses to relinquish the statuette and no one argues with him.

Eminem takes center stage and busts with a tasty limerick that insults and offends every celebrity present in three minutes flat. The balcony gives a rousing standing ovation while the Hollywood establishment sits in missive disbelief. Eminem gets nominated for an Emmy.

From the wings of the stage Chappelle shows up and does an interview with Oprah wherein he divulges the nature of his disappearance. He said he couldn’t stand the baton waving orchestra conductor and said the little man was stifling his creative juices despite being paid $50 million for the gig.

Richard Gere gets up and says something nonsensical about China then pulls a small furry rodent from his back pocket and stares lovingly at it.

Madonna & Brittney Spears do a rendition of Queen’s “We Are The Champions” then share a lesbian kiss. Every male in the arena is mesmerized because, let’s face it, lesbians rule.

Chappelle informs everyone that the remainder of the show has been canceled because all of the gold statuettes are missing. He then asks, “Has anyone seen Wynona Ryder?” Chappelle then jokes that the life story of Anna Nicole Smith is being filmed and that Jessica Simpson plays Smith pre & post mordem, because she's just that stupid.

Hugh Grant takes the stage with the nastiest east Hollywood hooker we’ve ever seen. Turns out they were introduced by mutual acquaintance Robert Downey Jr.

The final award for best picture goes to some independent movie only seventeen people saw and that offended nearly every member of the Republican Party.

Testicle Tuesday...colorful wenches

Sometimes I absolutely love being in the blogosphere, especially when my self-imposed duties involve looking up hot ass women on Google. So, as a public service, I bring these two smokin' hot gals with colorful monikers.

Sienna Miller is stunningly gorgeous, the kind of perfection Botticelli imortalized in his work. You decide, is she hotter as as red head or a blonde...



Scarlet Johansen is an exotic looking beauty with an unreal rack. And rumor has it she'll be doing full nude scenes soon...SPANKARIFIC SCARLET!

Let me ask your opinion...

If one looks at the identifiable pillars of fascism, as seen through contemporary American views of liberal and conservative political philosophies, it stands to reason that fascism is one of the few truly hybrid political ideologies. Many have characterized fascism before as being dominantly liberal but I must respectfully disagree. Here’s a list of the pillars of fascism…

Exaltation of state over individual...neither, though arguably liberal in a services sense
Macro Darwinism…conservative
Micro Darwinism…neither, though arguably conservative
Extreme nationalism…conservative
Corporatism…conservative
Universal suffrage…liberal
Seizure of church property…Draconian Bolshevism
Central control of resources…liberal
Small central government…conservative
Anti leftist…conservative
State control of media…neither, as understood by American definition of lib & con
Middle class angst/catering or pandering to the middle class…liberal
Racial purity…neither
Compulsory military service…Communism, though not a traditional American liberal p.o.v.
Militarism…conservative
Minimum wage…liberal
Anti-union…conservative
Elitist…Arguably both, liberals exalt intellectual elitism while conservatives exalt the economically elite

This list may be a skosh incomplete but it demonstrates that the split between liberal and conservative pillars is nearly equal. Even when you organize the list according to importance to the overall fascist ideology, such as universal suffrage, militarism, nationalism, corporatism, and central control of resources, the split between liberal and conservative is still fairly equal. What’s interesting is the fact that over one third of theses fascist pillars is neither or both.

So, is fascism, in your opinion, a liberal, conservative, or hybrid political philosophy?

Testicle Tuesday...the resurection

I recently celebrated my 36th birthday, February 5th to be precise. I found that these two starlettes share the same birthday as me. So, as I resurect the intstitution of Testicle Tuesday I say HAPPY BIRTHDAY (belated as it is) to Laura Linney and Jennifer Jason Leigh.

Ms. Linney looking radiant...in color and black & white...




Ms. Liegh in tight leather.....mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, daddy likey...

Late on a Monday...

Yet here I sit, one lone blogger in a sea of bloggers, a teeny ass fish in a big ass bowl.

I’d like to think my writing is profound and deep beyond measure but alas, the clap trap that oozes from my keys is mundane. Why else would I have barely 20 hits a day? Shit, the local softball scores or bowling league results get more hits.

I had a couple fascinating conversations with two extraordinary gentlemen whilst I was ensconced at the hospital. Both conversations revolved around spirituality and were really esoteric and tres cool.

The first took place with a phlebotomist, those guys who skulk around drawing blood at the wee hours of the night and morning. The vampire du jour, we’ll call him Daniel, was quiet and unassuming, almost in a Zen like way. So I did what I’m accustomed to doing, I started talking shit and Dan opened right up. I’m nothing if not unabashedly curious as to the inner works of almost every mind I come in contact with. So Dan and I talked philosophy for nearly an hour. His individual belief was a bit amorphous sprinkled with a touch of quiet yet esoteric dissonance. It was Zen mixed with Calvinism, a truly spacey and tripped out set of beliefs. Now I can’t do his fascinating observations justice so I won’t try. But this cat, Daniel, was extremely kind, thoughtful, and intelligent spiced by a pinch of stoic intensity, a true poet with a big needle. We exchanged email addresses but I fear, as with most such encounters, addresses will be lost. But I will never forget that talk, the time when I tripped down the boulevard of spirituality with a dude named Dan, a surreal journey into the inner workings of the soul. Take care man, and never let shit burry you too deep.

The very next morning, maybe a scant eight hours after I spoke with Daniel, a priest came in my room and asked the obligatory questions querying my religious preference and whatnot. So, being still invigorated by Dan’s musings, and admittedly high as a damn kite from 2ml of dilauded given minutes before, I struck up a conversation similar to the earlier chat with Dan. And to my pleasant surprise the Father was of a similar mindset about God and spirituality as was I. So when I said I was nondenominational but believed highly in a Big Kahuna and Christ his ears perked up. We sat and bandied about the meaning of God and spirituality for a half hour. The Father was surprisingly open to my eclectic views of God and he wasn’t offended when I questioned the wisdom of erecting stone edifices in tribute to God instead of cultivating the cathedrals we build in our hearts and minds. The Father was a nice mix of patience, wisdom, and intellect.

I’ll never forget these two conversations.

Let me not forget my favorite nurse, Ricci. She was so seat and funny and did everything the way I liked it. She combined a razor sharp wit with fierce intelligence. And she was always quick with a radiant smile. She’s the best.

Then there was my favorite cat of all time, Al. This dude has been working at my favorite hospital and on the same floor doing the same shift for 20 years. How to describe the indescribable? Al is a kooky mix of Barry White, Bill Withers, Eddie Murphy, Chris Berman, and John Holmes. Al’s dying wish is to become a porn star. Go figure. I loved rapping with this kid all night. Sometimes the nurses would get pissed because Al was idling in my room shooting the shit, talking about sports and life’s quirky turns. Al is and always was a poet, a man with a gift of wit and intelligence. Yet to hear his self-deprecating candor you’d swear he was neurotic, not erotic. But that’s Al, a living breathing contradiction, a question mark wrapped in a riddle. He, more so than any other, made my numerous stays at the hospital bearable.

So, before you go lamenting my plight remember I made some memories that will last a lifetime.

Wasup everyone

Well, I'm back, for whatever that's worth.

It's been nearly a month since I last posted and Billiam has kept you informed as to my untimely absense.

First, a shout out to Billiam The Conqueror for holding the fort and stoking the fires of this here bloggerific undertaking.

Second, man do I miss the I.V. dilauded that flowed like water at the hospital. That shit will put in the ozone faster than the Space Shuttle ever could. Too bad it's highly addictive or I'd convince one of my docs to issue some of that precious juice for home infusion purposes. Shub is no junkie, just a glutton.

Third, these I.V. antibiotics I'm on thankfully only one more day have reduced my colon to a colorful game of Shutes & Ladders, mostly shutes. My beloved Mexican food is unthinkable at this point as even simple items like Mac & Cheese traverse my intestinal track with startling ease. Man do I miss a big burrito or plate of chili rellenos.

Fourth, and lastly, I have no idea what direction fate has in store for my poor left foot. The doctors have not ruled out amputation if the infection is too pronounced. Here's hoping my prognosis is ok because being called Stubby would be quite the burden.

Later y'all, stay tuned for more inanity.

Message from the Shrub...

This is Billiam the Conqueror with an update for you. Here's an e-mail I received from Shrub;

At the moment B, I'm headed back to the hospital. The old caged foot looks like shit and your intrepid correspondent feels the same.

He needs our prayers. I for one, miss his smiling type and his well considered thoughts. Let us pray that our Shrub gets well, and that any medical procedure that is performed is successful, and gives him some relief. He's become someone I'd like to meet sometime in the future, and I'd like him to be around. Your prayers will make that a reality. Thanks all.

A 2006 retrospective

Here’s a quirky look at the year that was…

January 22-Kobe Bryant pours in 81 points, the second highest single-game total in NBA history. When asked how he felt about Gilbert Arenas scoring 61 soon there after Bryant was quoted as saying, “The guy has no conscience.”

January 30-President George Bush delivers his annual State of the Union address to the nation. Sales of Dr. Seuss and Hooked on Phonics reach an all-time high.

February 5-The Pittsburgh Steelers win Super Bowl XL. In one of the most stunning retirement speeches ever Jerome Bettis announces plans to join the cast of La Cage aux Faux in March.

February 8-Kelly Clarkson wins two Grammy’s. The moon turned black as sack cloth, the rivers ran red with blood, the seas boiled, and the seventh seal opened harkening the End Days.

February 10-26-Bode Miller, the first American favored to win five gold medals in Olympic Games’ history went 0 for 5 in the men’s skiing events. When asked why he insisted on bringing and staying in his own RV Miller replied, “Turin?! Where the hell is Turin? I thought this was Aspen dude.”

February 11-Dick Cheney accidentally shoots hunting companion Harry Wittington. Apparently Mr. Wittington had donned the most cunningly authentic quail disguise ever.

March 5-At the Academy awards rap group 36 Mafia win for best original song. Host John Stewart said it best, “36 Mafia 1, Martin Scorsese zero.”

March 25-500,000 people take to the streets to protest U.S. policy on illegal immigration. Hundreds of police are on scene providing crowd control and rounding nary a single illegal immigrant.

April 18-Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise unleash their first collective demon spawn upon an unsuspecting world. The delicate tyke was named Suri, because all the other really bizarre names had been used by other Hollywood parents.

June 9-The FIFA World Cup begins in Germany. Italy won the final on July 9. In related news the English fans rioted, again, and the dozens of brothels set by German entrepreneurs were surprisingly quiet due to the French and Italian fans saving their Euros for that fine German lager.

June 19-Bill Gates announced plans to step down as head of Microsoft. His charitable foundation is worth $30 billion. As a result I’ve founded my own charitable organization, news of which has already been conveyed to the Gates Foundation.

June 19-The Carolina Hurricanes win the Stanley Cup. What, Carolina has a hockey team. Who knew the Carolinas were a hockey Mecca. Do they even know the epic amounts of product it takes to get Barry Melrose’s hair to do that?

June 20-The Miami Heat wins its first NBA championship. In the subsequent victory parade Heat coach Pat Riley danced to hip hop while Shaq touched his coach’s butt. Note to self: never watch another parade again, ever.

June 25-Warren Buffet donates $30 billion to the afore mentioned Gates foundation. On a tangential note, I’ve already formed my own charitable organization. Mr. Buffet has been notified also.

July 2-Mexico holds a presidential election. Official results weren’t confirmed until September 5. Seems everyone who could count that was Mexican was in southern California operating quaint grocery stores, restaurants, and house keeping agencies.

July 23-American Floyd Landis wins the Tour de France. He subsequently failed a blood doping test. Rumors of French officials drugging a sleeping Landis have yet to be confirmed.

July 28-Mel Gibson is arrested for a DUI, then proceeds on a profanity laced, anti-Semitic spiel. Gibson claimed his allergies and his sneezes were mistaken for racial epithets. Get it…AH-JEW!

August 10-London police make 21 arrests in relation to a wide-spread terrorist plot involving targets in the UK and US. Renowned inspector Sherlock Holmes said the plot involved hitting America where it hurts, every Starbucks along the east coast was targeted for annihilation.

August 23-In Austria, Natascha Kampusch escapes from eight years of captivity. Her kidnapper, Wolfgang Prikolpi locked the girl in his cellar. The alert Kampusch escaped when Prikolpi went inside while his car was being washed. Note to self #2: immediately chain my “house guest” to radiator.

September 3-Andre Agassi retires after 20 years in professional tennis. The mercurial Agassi quipped he was now going to work full time on serving & volleying with wife Steffi Graff.

September 15-The now infamous e-coli scare starts in the US. On a note nobody could have predicted…the outbreak stretched its tentacles even to Taco Bell where shockingly customers became ill ingesting that authentic faux Mexican food.

September 29-Representative Mark Foley (R-FL) resigns after it is discovered he sent lewd images and emails to under age male pages. My god man, at least Clinton had the sense to sexually harass female subordinates. Where’s your decency?

October-North Korea successfully tested several nuclear weapons. A giant sling shot was found in the back yard of Kim Jung Il’s presidential abode.

October 6-The founders of YouTube sold their creation to Google for $1.6 billion. Google has now announced plans to by the entire Internet and World Wide Web, all umpteen billion sites.

October 17-The US population reached 300,000,000. Texas prison officials are working feverishly to counter this population explosion by advocating for capital punishment for minors and the mentally retarded. Officials have stated that executing these inmates is cheaper as the chairs are smaller and take less electricity.

October 27-The St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series. Twenty three people tuned in for the festivities.

October 31-Bob Barker retires after 35 years as host of The Price Is Right. He retires after shagging 35 years of hostesses too, God bless him.

November 3- Rev. Ted Haggard resigns as head of the National Association of Evangelicals. In response to accusations he hired male prostitutes and bought crack cocaine Haggard astutely responded he made the purchases but never took part in such licentiousness. No one believed him.

November 5-Saddam Hussein is sentenced to death in an Iraqi court. Thousands of Iraqis were heard shouting, “Ohhhh, let me, please, I’ll string him up!”

November 7-In the national election the Democrats seized control of both the House and Senate. President Bush and his mystic Karl Rove were seen splattering goat blood on Nancy Pelossi’s door.

November 17-Comedian and former Seinfeld star Michael Richards launched his now famous “nigger” tirade. In response former Seinfeld costar Jerry Seinfeld said, “I’m disappointed in Michael, jigaboo or porch monkey are way funnier.”

December 2-Britney Spears is seen partying with Paris Hilton. The noteworthiness of this pairing and their tryst is the fact Spears was photographed without panties on. Sales of hand lotion and Kleenex quadrupled. Spears later said she found God and her panties. Note to self #3: I found God in those panties too, and dental floss. BTW, she shaves.

December 10-The Nobel Prizes are awarded in Stockholm and Oslo. Strange how the Peace Prize is named after the inventor of dynamite, go figure. On a side note, I hear Sweden and Norway are lovely in December.

December 26-The Iraqi appellate court announced that Saddam Hussein would be executed via hangman’s noose by the end of January 2007. Update: Saddam went swinging and twitching into his after life on December 30. With all the technology available you would think Iraqi officials could have shot better footage.

An awkward Christmas poem

It's crude but I tried...

Under tree are stacks of motorized cars on electric tracks, gifts for child
Candles made of wax illuminate the stacks, as young one dreams of Christmas morning wild
Snow flakes fall, garlands deck the walls, signs of magical season
Crowded shopping malls and tattered shawls accompany cold that defies reason
Twinkling lights and other Christmas sites take one back to when life made sense
Stupid fights and drunken nights lost in season’s innocence
Neighborhood tours and awe filled words as lights hypnotize
Wreaths don doors like the days of yore as on adults’ faces are etched beaming smiles
Youth lost and oft times tossed on scrap heaps of years gone by
Between the trappings that cost, tuning out what was once lost, we live and die
But we don’t truly live and to our youth give reason to reproach
Like a steel shiv a stab to where once lived drops boundless of joy & hope
So if you can look at the man staring back in the mirror
Bang spoons on pans, pretend you’re Peter Pan, and things will become clearer
If only one could ditch the vestiges of adulthood and stand in stupid awe
As we should, where we stood, and once again believe in Santa Clause

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Ah the joys of education

Seems a couple weeks back a teacher, quite a tasty morsel if you ask me, was busted for molesting a 17 year old male student. Why is this a crime. When the teacher is a certifiable hottie the male victim in question should recieve acolades, not therapy.

"Why did you shag your teacher?"

"Duh, look at her, she's freakin' hot!"

So, in my never ending quest for enlightenment I bring you a chronicle of the hottest teachers to ever defile the jouvenile of their choosing.



Pam Rogers Turner...and she's been naked on camera too.

Amber Jennings

Sandra Beth Geisel

Debra LaFave

Local hot teacher...mmmmmmm, yummy.



Maybe if I had teachers like these who show obvious concern for a young man's education, maybe, just maybe, I would've gone to class more.

Let me know what you people think...

This is the beginning of a fantasy novel I'm formulating in my spare time. Give my writing a fair and honest critique, no bullshit or platitudes.

The Exile Chronicles

As the morning sun raises in the eastern sky a faint sparkle shown on the horizon. Such sights in the war torn land of Grundig were not unusual, many armies with gleaming shields and deadly spears had passed along this same road marching towards victory or doom. But this new force would irrevocably alter the landscape and forever change the balance of power.

The Exile had returned, and he traveled at the head of the massive army he’d assembled in compelled isolation, driven out by his own people for an offense he did not commit. How long ago was he ostracized? A millennia at least, over a thousand years spent stewing and plotting. What plan he carried in his conscious none knew, revenge, redemption, or reckoning was equally possible.

What was the purpose of his sudden return? Was he here to serve the Jade Council, the same counsel who had pronounced guilt and had banished the Exile to the blighted northern reaches of Grundig, and who now had the temerity to summon him in hopes of gaining his allegiance? Or was he here to destroy them?

No one knew, save only the Exile himself, for he served no master.


What was the Exile’s name? Few knew for his name hadn’t been spoken aloud in many circles for a thousand years. As part of the sentence passed down by the Counsel, the Exile’s name was to be stricken from the records and his name was strictly taboo. Only those who knew him and were still alive knew his proper name but none dare speak it aloud in public lest they be tried by the magistrate for treason. The mighty Jade Counsel ruled with an iron fist and did not tolerate sedition of any kind. And uttering the Exile’s name was an affront to the Counsel itself.

As the Exile’s army slowly advanced towards the small town of Spikiri the locals sat along side the road going about their daily rituals. Some swept their stoops, some tended to the vegetable fields and fed the livestock, and others stood on alert with brandished weapons, hoping that the latest travelers meant this sleepy hamlet no harm.

The glint of sun on spear tips gave way to a large cloud of dust and the faint rattle of metal and footsteps. It was hard to tell how many approached but the seasoned lookouts high in their towers could not see the end of the column as it passed beyond sight over the horizon. Quick arithmetic would surmise that the Grendal Road, the main highway that linked all of Grundig, could accommodate only twenty men walking abreast, and half that count of cavalry, and even fewer wagons. This army numbered ten thousand, maybe more.

The guards knew such a force would level the town in seconds, so they stole up the courage to dutifully let this army pass unheeded. As the rumble drew near the Elvin guards in the towers, using their supernatural eye sight, could now see the head of the column, and their faces turned ashen with fear. The humans gathered below saw the look of dread in their normally stoically valiant and stoic compatriots and panic welled up in their hearts. The townsfolk scattered, doors slammed, shutters were closed tight, the mood grew apprehensive.

The hooves of the horses at the head of the column grew to a nearly thunderous din as the tip of this war scythe drew within a mile of the town walls. The elves on guard could now clearly make out the stern yet ominously beautiful face of the leader of this cabal. Stories had been written about this wayfarer. Tales of his sword cutting swaths of destruction through his enemy were the stuff of legend. It was also said that this one, the Exile, was the most powerful elf in the long and tumultuous history of Grundig. Some legends even said his eyes burnt with the fires damnation and that his visage was so fearsome yet so fare that to gaze upon his angelic face was akin to looking into the eyes of Yah, the Creator, The Master of All Things.

The Exile and his closest lieutenants were now within 200 yards of the town walls. He raised his right hand and the entire formation stopped in unison.

“’Lo there, state your business.” An Elvin sentry manning the gate, obviously the one in charge, tried to be stern but his nerves shown through in his voice.

A voice boomed from the head of army, “We’re making way to Vorai.”

The sentries’ hearts leapt to their collective throats. This army meant business and would not be stopped by the two hundred men-at-arms in Spikiri. “What business do you have in Vorai?”

A decidedly more gentle voice, yet one with great command shouted, “My business is my own. But if you must, we’re here to see the Jade Counsel.” To hear the voice of the Exile was like listening to a soothing and wise sage, the wisdom of the ages was in that voice. “Now please, let us pass.”

And with that the sentry captain signaled and the gate was open.

Tuesday night...shit it's cold

The mercury hath dipped to a paltry 10 degrees here in Denver. As I sit here on a Tuesday night I feel the urge to confess.

I’ve lusted many times but only truly loved once. Ahhh, Michelle, how you stole my heart with the first gaze upon your angelic face, your smile lit up a room and your soulful laugh made my soul sing. Wherever you are and wherever fate takes know this, I’ll never forget you.

I cannot begin to fathom the grief of mother Alleta Sullivan and father Thomas Sullivan, whose five sons perished aboard the USS Juneau off the shores of Guadalcanal in WWII. George, Francis, Joseph, Madison, and Albert all died when their ship was sunk by a Japanese torpedo. May you rest in peace young men, and may the stars be your playground.

Thoughts turn to nothing in particular as Al Green belts out the classic “Simply Beautiful”. I’m discovering the depth and beauty of music again, something I’d taken for granted. Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast.

I go in for surgery tomorrow, Wednesday, and I’ll admit, I’m a bit scared. The surgeon, a decent bloke, plans to affix a steel cage to my lower leg via a series of rods drilled into the bone. This will help fix the tendon contracture that currently makes my foot totally incompatible with any footwear. It is also hoped that the chronic sores that plague yours truly’s lower extremities will be a thing of the past should my foot and ankle return to a more neutral and natural position. Ah the joys of modern medicine. I hope the Dilauded flows freely.

I really need to get a hobby besides video games. Damn things waste more time than watching the NBA. I detest watching basketball anymore. Sure doesn’t resemble the Showtime era of the 80’s when both teams routinely scored 120 points a night. Where’s the Magic Man and Larry Bird when you need them. The trinity of Dwayne Wade, LaBron, and Melo may salvage some of the mystique of the NBA of yore but only if they win championships with reckless abandon.

Woohoo, the Jay Cutler era begins in Bronco land on Sunday.

Tata for now kids, wish me luck.

Bravo old folks

It’s a Thursday night and the air cools. Winter is around the corner and yours truly will miss the warmth. But let’s be honest, winters in Denver aren’t that bad. Yes the snow falls in buckets but it melts away in mere days. The sun destroys the blanket of white, revealing yellow grass and semi-frozen dog turds. Ah the majesty of nature.

My dear friend’s grandfather passed away Tuesday. I feel for her loss. She was tremendously close to her grandpa, as I was with mine. Grandparents are fascinating creatures. On one hand they’re quick to spoil the little ones. Then your parents regale one and all with stories of the tyrannical despots that now sit, masked as your beloved octogenarians and familial patriarchs & matriarchs. Don’t they look cute as they shuffle along on frail legs that have seen better days. Terrorizing pinchers of facial cheeks, givers of the pocket cash, keepers of our heritage.

In these grizzled bodies lay wisdom beyond comprehension. Technology has swum by those eyes at a dizzying pace. They gathered round the radio in the forgotten days of yore to listen to Seabiscuit beat Man o’ War, to hear the call as Jim Braddock bedeviled and defeated the dreaded Max Baer, and were scared out of their wits when Orson Wells played the biggest practical joke ever during the now infamous War of the Worlds broadcast.

They watched as the economy collapsed and the Great Depression seized the throat of this nation. Yet they endured.

Then they fought and destroyed the Third Reich and the dreams of Japanese imperialism. Over 600,000 men lost their lives yet still they endured.

They saw the country through the Korean and Viet Nam wars. They witnessed a divided country nearly tear itself asunder during years of mass protest and racial strife. Yet they still loved this nation, and endured.

They watched with pride as the United States put a man on the moon and watched with bated breath as NASA, in its finest hour of heroism, saved the astronauts of Apollo 13. They took a deep breath and endured.

Then the telecommunications revolution changed the face of technology. The Internet now made it possible to communicate with anyone on the planet and to find any nugget of information imaginable. And there they sit in awe and wonder, and endure.

Stop for a minute and think about this. Our elders, grandparents and great grandparents, were born anywhere from 1900-1930. Think about the world they were born into. Cars were scarce, television was nonexistent, computers weren’t even contemplated, telephones weren’t universal let alone cellular phones, and business was conducted on reams of paper. Radio and newspapers were the only form of mass media, children really did walk five miles to school, family farms were the dominant agriculture machine, houses were brick, horses provided the most reliable transportation, and election results weren’t known for weeks afterward.

Now fast forward to 2006. The Internet is the lynch pin of research tools, phones now don’t require wires and fit in your breast pocket, microwaves can boil water in seconds, cars go 100mph, planes go 500mph, one nuclear bomb can wipe out a city, there are televisions in 97% of all American households, every CD and DVD you own can now fit in a piece of hardware barely bigger than wallet, and satellites beam porn 24/7.

Our elders have lived through the largest and fastest technological explosion in human history, yet they just keep on trucking. When you stop and think about what they’ve seen it humbles those of us who grew up with all this glorious gadgetry.

So, as these impossibly wise and gentle souls pass through the winters of their collective lives let those of us who still can lend a helping hand…or a round of applause.

Rejoice in thy youth oh young one

Snow falls on the window pane as Denver is plunged into the first snow storm of what is predicted to be a bitch of a winter. And here I sit, watching the flakes cascade down in winter’s curtain, which just happens to fall smack dab in the middle of autumn. Winter draws nigh and the air cools as the seasons fade and memories trip on holiday splendor. Or so they say.

Bring on All Hallows Eve, the night before All Saints Day, Halloween. Let the chocolate and other candy treats flow like water, let the little ones revel in their youth, and let us adults recapture that tantalizing spirit of those of the next generation. Be a kid, if but for five fucking minutes. Do not put away all the trappings of childhood, and for sanity’s sake don’t let die the fires of youth.

It was once said that the greatest of all tragedies is lost youth. I’ll go this one better. An even greater tragedy is youth squandered or surrendered. What fools we adults are, what capricious and arbitrary beings we become. Childhood grants everyone the inability to be disingenuous. The ability and desire to deceive are mutualities only to those whose youthful spirit has been compromised.

Yes children can be and oft times are demonic, evil things that seemingly delight in inflicting misery upon the closest target. But this impulse is created by observing us adults. Put two five year olds in a room with nothing but a cardboard box and a sheet and they will construct a castle that rivals the legendary Versailles Palace. And they’ll do this with stunning, implausible ease. And we adults see nothing but a sepulcher of culture that once housed a major appliance.

Wait, for now the castle is a spaceship, a grand battle cruiser replete with laser canons and English crewmen that wander aimlessly punching bright green buttons. But never the red one, that button is reserved for the captain, whom at the tender age of five commands a legion of troops and can destroy worlds with the red button.

Now the box becomes a cave. Not just any cave mind you, but a cave that houses the most fearsome beast the world has ever seen. So there our diminutive hero stands, armed with a magical spear only he can see. He lunges forth as the box shudders, and lo, the beast is slain, impaled upon the righteous spear that only the young can wield.

Now the cave morphs into a pirate ship. Our hero now stands on deck with his eye patch, wooden leg, parrot, and hook. He now captains the most feared pirate vessel in the Caribbean. There, off in the distance the captain spies a mast through his telescope. His arch enemy approaches, the infamous Black Beard. The ships move toward one another as the canons sound off salvo after salvo. Black Beard’s ship is mortally wounded and the rapscallion goes down with his ship.

The box is altered to resemble an amphibious assault boat, the kind used on D-Day in World War II. The intrepid five year old is now a grizzled old veteran of battles too numerous to count. He’s saved dozens of lives and single-handedly fought back the Third Reich. The boat lands and the pint-sized Audie Murphy storms a machine gun nest by himself, suffering a dozen horrific wounds before finally subduing the enemy. He succumbs to his injuries and dies in a spastic, exaggerated pratfall.

There he laid, the spirit of youth encapsulated in a tiny body, the only being alive who can stand on the shoulders of giants, ride unicorns, joust with mounted dragons, and save the world from utter destruction, all in a day’s time.

Therein lay the tantalizing beauty of the young. Those little buggers are full of energy, emotion, and vibrant imagination. Perhaps that’s the secret to rediscovering our youth. Maybe we should imagine more, trip on boulevard of dreams, engage in flights of fancy, and hold tight to that which makes us feel young again.

I love writing, not because I’m any good but because it makes me feel alive and, dare I say, youthful. The unhindered exuberance of spewing shit out on my blog helps me recapture the youthful spirit long thought dead. For on this page I can be anybody, anywhere, anytime, anyplace. I can magically transport myself and a few readers back to a time when the adult travails of life seem insignificant. That is why I blog.

Tonight I bed down with my favorite cozy blanket, and sleep. To sleep, per chance to dream. Maybe I’ll have that one where I’m a kid again riding my bike down some suicidal incline. Maybe, just maybe.