Sniffin' the Blogs

Looking back, or forward to 1984. Dragon Fly Eye has a peek.

Steal This Sweater again sticks it to The Man.

Keeping on top of my digital fold H2OBFLO.

Censored with Rochester Turning, I suppose it's my potty mouth. Fuckers.

D&C Henrietta Blog Whoops!

Teetering on the Fulcrum of Destruction.

Balance.

To the right, destruction.

Sway.

To the left, destruction.

Recoil.

Red fish, blue fish.

Balance.

School of fish.

Destroy the intangible to lasting ocean currents.

fin.

Two labs, a wedgie and a jackass.

So the dogs, Maggie and Seamus, escaped this morning around quarter after eight. Carefully utilizing the woodpile as a platform, which to hop the fence, they began their quest for freedom. I can't blame them. It must get kind of boring being them. Same thing everyday. Play, food and sleep. I can only hope that bloodlust took over their minds and took them to that dark place in their heads, like the Hounds of the Monkeyvilles, seeking the thrill of the hunt. As today is my youngest son's birthday, above the fold on today's D&C classifieds, the thought of him returning home from school to a dogless castle was less than appealing.

Pissed and searching the neighborhood for hours, I had to abandon the effort to create an ice cream cake fit for a king. Upon completion and redepositing the creamy goodness back into the freezer, the search resumed. Thinking like a lab, I stopped by all the bodies of water that may have lured them for a swim. My mind exhausted and neck tweeked from checking the passing backyards, I rounded a corner in the neighborhood to find the fuzz, leash in hand, looking for my pups.

"Pardon me, Officer. You wouldn't happen to be looking for two labs would you?"

"Yes," responded the public servant. My tax dollars at work and I'm in the front row.

Fuckers. They've been near the house all day, intentionally eluding me, like a twisted game to see if the vein in my temple bursts. Bloodlust, I knew it. I was right after all.

Seamus was lounging in the back of the squad car while from behind a house came the dog catcher, pardon me, Animal Control Officer. He was sweaty and looked pissed. More so than me, I don't have a shiny badge either.

"I need to see their dog licenses," he said in a manner as if to imply that I carry them in my wallet.

It was at this point, I realized that the $7.50 I pay each year was to spring them from the clutches of The Man. I needed to get the paperwork from the house to place the evil hounds back in my charge. I flew home and went right to the file cabinet, third drawer down, under M, for The Man.

Papers in tow I flashed my civically responsible red tape before him and was let off with a warning.

Me? What the fuck did I do?

"What happened?", he said, with a bead of sweat flinging dangerously close to my nose, nostrils flared.

I couldn't tell him the truth. Surely, he would never believe it was actually a game designed to destroy me. I gave him the woodpile story as a coverup.

Earlier, convinced they were gone for good or splattered about 590, I had begun to search for photographs while the ice cream was melting, to design the best Lost Dog poster, perhaps in the Russian Contructivist motif, cash fuckin' money reward and all.

I found this video, shot by my oldest son.

All is well.

I have but one banana to give to my country.

As funny man Charles Nelson Reilly has past this video post reveals some odd and perverse advertising techniques. While pitching Bic Ink Crayons the chalkboard in the background distorts the Nathan Hale quote:

"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."

Given that today is Memorial Day, I found this leaving me a bit uneasy.


Don't shop today. Put down that white hot. Fight the temptation of commericalism and trivialization of this day. It won't kill you.

Hey, Countrywide! Fuck you!

Two of my friends are taking it to Countrywide for threatening foreclosure on their house. Why you ask? Because they are a lesbian couple. Simple as that.

Lambda Legal has filed suit against the mortgage company for their actions.

Read more here and here.

Where's the local press on this local story?

Who are the ones that we kept in charge?

"Gimme a Whiz wit."

Huh? you say. It's a Philly thing.

This morning, and a lovely one at that, while venturing to Canandaigua for a lacrosse game I saw what I thought to be another poseur trying to hustle a buck selling cheesesteaks. You know the type. You see, a cheesesteak is to someone from Philly what a Zweigles is to someone from here. It is the lifeblood of existence. I swear. For someone so far from home, and if your are from Philly that word sounds like no other except maybe phone or water, a cheesesteak not in the City of Brotherly Love is a evil mirage destined to disappoint.

I saw the sign for Mac's Philly Steaks and being a bit skeptical, surprise surprise, I hestitated investigating until I saw in the window simply the word Amoroso's.

That's it! I'm stopping now! Airbags ready to blow.

Amoroso's is the defining characteristic of a real cheesesteak. It's the roll, baby, THE fucking roll that gave me tunnel vision, The Eye of the Tiger if you will. (Sorry for the lame Rocky reference.)

Be it the water, pronounced wuter, or the history of Independence in every freedom loving bite, these rolls validate this shop.

To go to the effort to get them here from there is most admirable. Honesty. Integrity. The real deal. The heart stopping nastiness that is the Philly Cheesesteak one short NYS Thuway Exit from Brighton.

Walking in surrounded by Philly memorabilia and signage paying due homage to the greats, Geno's, Pat's, Jim's and the like I tell you that my dick was getting hard. Rushing to the counter, leaving the family in my trail, like a junkie from days gone by I snapped the words, "Gimme a Whiz wit.". They understood.

I am at peace.

On the way home, I got a call, on my phone specifically designed to kill bee colonies, from a friend rushing their oldest child to the hospital.

I guess cheesesteaks aren't that big of a deal.

Don't like Dead Kennedys? Tough shit, it's my birthday.

Jax, for you, and maybe a little H.R. Giger on the side.

Jeepers Wally, what about the Moral Majority?

"If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being." - Jerry Falwell

Oh, really?

Lisa Anne really nailed it.

Pickin' up the 2.5 Spare

Earlier this afternoon, I received via USPS, just before the rate increase, a sexy Sumo-size extra glossy postcard addressed to me. Randy invited me, by name, to come to the Brighton Town Hall Meeting. I feel special. What in the world should I wear?

Perhaps a black tie affair or maybe business casual.

I know, the always fashionable, Doc Martens, a Scottish kilt and a bowling shirt.

That's sure to make Randy take notice, after all he wrote me personally. I am special, I really am.

Now what to do with my hair?

The Henry Rollins

Another cop out video post. A love letter to Ann Coulter.

Go Choke on a Fishbone.

Fishbone in BFLO on Sunday. Get your ska on.

Mission Accomplished? Fuck you, Mr. Bush.

Photo: Nina Berman

That being said I'll let Rochester Turning have the succinct final word.

Finally, we can enjoy Bad Lieutenant as a family.

I'd been hipped to a little tidbit, from an unnamed source, that I found quite interesting. With all the hullabaloo going on at the library this product is sure to win the hearts of those so receptive to censorship. I went down to the local Target to check out ClearPlay, a DVD player filtering system with stunning Home Theater Quality!.

At last, a Big Brother for my home personal use with the catchy corporate buzz line of "You probally don't even know what you missed". This product/service edits a predetermined list of films using a subscription based filter available through the ClearPlay website utilizing their player. Wow, you mean I can pay you to tell me what I find objectional. Thanks for doing all the work ClearPlay! I surely couldn't do it without you. Amongst the list of films to chose from that could be interesting to see edited:

Fahrenheit 9/11
March of the Penguins
2001: A Space Odyssey
Waiting for Guffman

Checking their website for info they have some promotional videos and the usual crap. I did notice some of the Non-Profit "supporters" of ClearPlay are the cream of the Fundie Rightie crop:

Grass Fire
American Family Association
Focus on the Family

Thanks to Peter B. from the Democrat and Chronicle's Henrietta Blog I've gained some new insight into possible Closed Captioning contextual snafus.

A phrase such as:

Fuckin' ClearPlay, fuck you assholes. Fuckin' think for me? So I don't have to? Fascist America thanks you fuckwads.

Edited by ClearPlay could read:

ClearPlay, you think for me, so I don't have to. America thanks you.

Bad Lieutenant is not an edited selection by ClearPlay. Just thought it might get your attention.