red light assface
it seems like i got EVERY fucking don't walk sign this morning. and now that i have a long-ass walk from the montgomery bart stop (at market and mont.) all the way up monty to north beach near coit tower. fuckin shit, man. doesn't help i have a still-broken toe that needs mending.
yo yo yo.
but i did it, i did it, i rise , i RISE, like maya angelou and shit.
fuzzle.
lessee, last night was adult, i am spoonbender, and the faint at bimbo's. it was a fine fine show of electro mania. adult was adult. flat, not much of a stage presence, but damn, those oh-so-ironic art school songs. lovely lovely. we all decided however, they are probably a better band to listen to at home.
spoonbender, conversely, has been practicing for like three months straight and pumped out a hell of a performance. it was obvious they've been practicing based on how fluid it was. awesome trippy visuals from the early 80s seamlessly aligned with the music. amazing. they're this weird mix of electro, hard rock, indie pop and i don't know what else. they're good though.
the lead vocalists, cup and dustin (who is from kalamazoo, mich. and used to be the drummer for Thought Industry back in the day) sing into telephones, though i got the scoop and found out they added nicer microphones to the phones.
and then i talked to herbie hancock yesterday, who was the coolest cat ever. so nice, so genuine and honest. i have absolutely no complaints about the gentleman.
well, i must return to my studies. i'm hoping to figure out the racist tendencies of the south american jungle rat. it's a very good topic.
love me don't love others.
be aloof,
your partner of mammalian sights,
Elmer Puto
Thursday, February 28, 2002
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
live mix extravaganza plus booty action for children under 1
before we begin, i just want to say that i can't believe i didn't talk about such things as watching a man being held by his leg on a moving bus after he allegedly (i'm such a journalist - allegedly) stole a girl's wallet from her backpack. the bus was very crowded that evening, nearly two weeks ago now -- the same night we went to go see "straight outta hunter's point" at the red vic on haight street. it was fucking pouring rain that night. but yeah, this little fucker was being held by people on the bus, it was awesome. he pushed me aside, this little bastard. i should have dropped a boulder on his head. but unfortunately, i wasn't in colorado.
i also can't believe i didn't talk about breaking my toe...was that the same night or a week later? i think a week later, making the bus incident three weeks ago. what the hell. i am brainalive instead of braindead. still i proffer.
yeah, broke my goddamn toe at home. the tale about seeing the doctor is even better, actually.
looks like i got me an assignment for wednesday, my anniversary of death destruction and puffery.
ok, on to my mixes. i played a big gig at kelly's mission rock in SF on Saturday, Feb. 16. it was good clean fun had by all.
good clean fun.
yep, so screw you.
i think bart comes at 11:06, so i must work fast to beat the assclockassclockass.
which is common these days except when you wear dungarees (what the fuck ARE dungarees anyway? are they like dingos?).
my mix was quite good, yes yes. oh yeah, i broke my toe on the 14th, tina's birthday. how could i forget? call me a foool.
anyway, i was at seanO's over the weekend and moved all those minidiscs to CD-R. and now we got ourselves some live mixes on CD-R for the masses. may the gods and asschains be praised.
so below, is a detailed description of my other mixes.
Infuse mix went amazingly well, a good mixture of broken beat, nu-jazz, ambient and minimal techno.
see, good clean fun had by your dad.
if you want one of these, holler so i can hear you. remember, i'm deaf in my right bone. thanks for your death and supportive garments.
so besides the live Infuse mix, which people seem to be turned on by, we also have the following, all recorded live at Bruce Davis' house Super Bowl weekend. all these mixes are a bit rougher than Infuse and has some volume issues (like CDs being WAY louder than some of the vinyl). also note --- these are all still just one continuous track. it'll take some more work to split these up into tracks, so it's up to you if you want to wait or get 'em now, while they're hot and horny:
Minimal Cocoa Puffs mix - a little more raw than Infuse mix, this was probably the most influential of the many mixes i did in preparation for Infuse, containing at least five of the same tracks as Infuse. midtempo minimal techno and abstract IDM. For people who like some people, but not all people. Also, for people who wear glasses, have friends that wear glasses or wish they wore glasses to look smarter and/or cooler than non-glasses wearing hobbits.
Free As The Morning Sun - a very stoned out and a bit disjointed mix (warning: The Cure makes an appearance. as SeanO said, some of Bruce's 80s vinyl can cause real trouble. it's a good song but doesn't fit with much of the rest of the mix). However, this is where a lot of the broken beat side of the first half of the Infuse mix originated from. Recommended for people with noses, armhair, nosehair, and a chewing gum fetish.
i feel like i'm doing descriptions for the "lost tapes" or something that have just been unearthed.
Clockwork Frank - Electro synth pop extravaganza. a bit heavy on the Adult. tracks (three), but still, good quality stuff. a few surprises (including an off-track from the "American Gigolo" soundtrack by Giorgio Moroder, not "call me").
Super Bowl Shuffle - another one that's a bit disjointed due to mr. davis' insane collection of 80s vinyl (yes, i gave in to the tom tom club...sorry....and the beastie boys...). that said, after relistening to this one while we were transferring it over the weekend at seano's, i found it to be incredibly relaxing...despite its title (it was finished with 29 seconds to go in the game, when it was tied 17-17 - hence the title). nice one, this.
enjoy your day here at cedar point.
your partner in mayhem,
Louis Freeh
before we begin, i just want to say that i can't believe i didn't talk about such things as watching a man being held by his leg on a moving bus after he allegedly (i'm such a journalist - allegedly) stole a girl's wallet from her backpack. the bus was very crowded that evening, nearly two weeks ago now -- the same night we went to go see "straight outta hunter's point" at the red vic on haight street. it was fucking pouring rain that night. but yeah, this little fucker was being held by people on the bus, it was awesome. he pushed me aside, this little bastard. i should have dropped a boulder on his head. but unfortunately, i wasn't in colorado.
i also can't believe i didn't talk about breaking my toe...was that the same night or a week later? i think a week later, making the bus incident three weeks ago. what the hell. i am brainalive instead of braindead. still i proffer.
yeah, broke my goddamn toe at home. the tale about seeing the doctor is even better, actually.
looks like i got me an assignment for wednesday, my anniversary of death destruction and puffery.
ok, on to my mixes. i played a big gig at kelly's mission rock in SF on Saturday, Feb. 16. it was good clean fun had by all.
good clean fun.
yep, so screw you.
i think bart comes at 11:06, so i must work fast to beat the assclockassclockass.
which is common these days except when you wear dungarees (what the fuck ARE dungarees anyway? are they like dingos?).
my mix was quite good, yes yes. oh yeah, i broke my toe on the 14th, tina's birthday. how could i forget? call me a foool.
anyway, i was at seanO's over the weekend and moved all those minidiscs to CD-R. and now we got ourselves some live mixes on CD-R for the masses. may the gods and asschains be praised.
so below, is a detailed description of my other mixes.
Infuse mix went amazingly well, a good mixture of broken beat, nu-jazz, ambient and minimal techno.
see, good clean fun had by your dad.
if you want one of these, holler so i can hear you. remember, i'm deaf in my right bone. thanks for your death and supportive garments.
so besides the live Infuse mix, which people seem to be turned on by, we also have the following, all recorded live at Bruce Davis' house Super Bowl weekend. all these mixes are a bit rougher than Infuse and has some volume issues (like CDs being WAY louder than some of the vinyl). also note --- these are all still just one continuous track. it'll take some more work to split these up into tracks, so it's up to you if you want to wait or get 'em now, while they're hot and horny:
Minimal Cocoa Puffs mix - a little more raw than Infuse mix, this was probably the most influential of the many mixes i did in preparation for Infuse, containing at least five of the same tracks as Infuse. midtempo minimal techno and abstract IDM. For people who like some people, but not all people. Also, for people who wear glasses, have friends that wear glasses or wish they wore glasses to look smarter and/or cooler than non-glasses wearing hobbits.
Free As The Morning Sun - a very stoned out and a bit disjointed mix (warning: The Cure makes an appearance. as SeanO said, some of Bruce's 80s vinyl can cause real trouble. it's a good song but doesn't fit with much of the rest of the mix). However, this is where a lot of the broken beat side of the first half of the Infuse mix originated from. Recommended for people with noses, armhair, nosehair, and a chewing gum fetish.
i feel like i'm doing descriptions for the "lost tapes" or something that have just been unearthed.
Clockwork Frank - Electro synth pop extravaganza. a bit heavy on the Adult. tracks (three), but still, good quality stuff. a few surprises (including an off-track from the "American Gigolo" soundtrack by Giorgio Moroder, not "call me").
Super Bowl Shuffle - another one that's a bit disjointed due to mr. davis' insane collection of 80s vinyl (yes, i gave in to the tom tom club...sorry....and the beastie boys...). that said, after relistening to this one while we were transferring it over the weekend at seano's, i found it to be incredibly relaxing...despite its title (it was finished with 29 seconds to go in the game, when it was tied 17-17 - hence the title). nice one, this.
enjoy your day here at cedar point.
your partner in mayhem,
Louis Freeh
elemental disturbance from on low
aka
that boy needs therapy
the weirdest thing - i was walking home from work today...in our new location in North Beach in SF.... and was in a particularly surly mood.
why the surly mood? oh, let's see...my friend was being kind of a demanding dick via email (which, as most people know, is hard to figure out when people are kidding or are serious); dealing with the whole moving situation, fucked up phones and people talking my ear off when i have things that need to be finished; dealing with my living situation at home, as well as the unfortunate byproduct of a bad living situation with the relatively low-key tone my relationship has taken with my partner; and just my overall frustration with always being behind, always trying to get ahead, and the difficulty of focusing on shit, anything, yo.
yeah, so i was walking home from work today :)......
and amidst all this surly bullshit and heartache and me being pissed off at the world, i was given a little reality check.
i come upon this dude sitting on the corner, his head bowed down as if he's embarassed of being forced to beg for money on the streets. his sign said "until i find a job, i'm relying on your kindess" or something similar.
and on impulse, i threw a quarter into his used Starbucks cup (i could have had a long conversation about the dangers of supporting Starbucks but then again, that'd be fucking shallow and trite of me...sorry).
it was a reality check for me. for a couple seconds, i felt that guys pain. man, here i am worried about all this shit and this guy has nothing.
especially odd was the fact that i NEVER give these people any money. i never even look their way when they're asking me for money and usually ignore them...sometimes raising the ire of these people even more.
just fucked up. i think i see so much homelessness that i've become desensitized to it. plus so many of them go about it all fucked up, forcing their guilt and misery upon you in an instant in the hopes you'll be like "oh, damn, sorry for your situation. let me help you out."
yet, this guy, fuck, i didn't even stop to talk to him. i just kept on walking.
sounds so trivial but it's not. it affected me, obviously.
anyone that knows me understands that, try to follow here, i often feel like i'm just along for the ride and that my present consciousness is divided into parts...part of me is following along, part of me is doing what i want to do on impulse...conducting day to day activities because i have to. in other words, i don't know why i do the things i do. i'm aware of my faults and understand what needs to happen for me to be successful yet i can't seem to make things work all the time. i can't seem to get my shit together.
but then some people have told me i'm too hard on myself and that can't be healthy.
which, is totally true.
i am really really hard on myself. i wish i wasn't. yet, the further behind i get, the worse it gets.
and i understand that it's difficult to force myself day in and day out to go out and do shit, work all day, AND attempt to move forward in my writing career.
something's got to give and it feels like the writing of late.
plus i want to do my dj career even more.
so what the fuck do i want???? what the fuck do i want????
i don't know
yet somehow i know what i'm capable of...and i can't seem to do it.
i wish i was in some sort of situation where i had somebody to answer to, somebody who said "hey, we need this by such-and-such a date or you're going to die."
~~ chuckle ~~
ok, maybe not "die" per se, but you get what i'm thinking.
i have editors that hover dates over me and i cannot make the fucking deadlines. i cannot.
i don't know why. i ALWAYS push things to the limit. why why why? why can't i work ahead? why why why?
i need to make a tax appointment to do my taxes, i need to cancel my health club thing, i need to contact people and yet i don't do these things.
maybe part of it is understanding somewhere deep down that i cannot do everything and that taking too much on is only going to fuck me even more.
yet, i want to do these things. i want to do everything.
the problem is i'm inherently a social being in need of interaction with others, not to mention a constant curiousity that forces me to find out what the hell is going on all the time.
so much shit, damn.
how am i going to accomplish anything if i can't get anything finished.
"i just want to be who i am" - an appropriate line from this James Hardway album...speaking of, i'm yet again procrastinating by doing this now instead of writing my fucking story.
yet, my blog, of late, seems to bring me more joy than some of my writing does, even though i know i'm a music freak and know i'm good at what i do.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
i'm talking in circles, therefore putting my mind in a fucking circle.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
did i mention that i'm attempting to wean myself off the smoke slowly?
i've only gone two whole days and i'm kind of wiry, wandering, and a bit anxious.
yeah, that's it...anxious.
i can't stop thinking about the possibility of taking that pipe in my bag, walking down to yerba buena park next the metreon and taking a couple puffs.
part of me says "you'll be mad at yourself if you do it" and part of me is saying "if you don't do it, you're going to go a bit crazy tonight."
and both of me are right.
ha
on that note, i need to take a step back for a second and stop looking at the goddamn computer screen for a couple minutes.
i just need to breathe.
i just need to focus.
how do i do it?
how? how?
stop smoking pot asshole. sure, easier said than done.
two voices beating with one heart.
gotta love that.
love and hate,
tim
aka
that boy needs therapy
the weirdest thing - i was walking home from work today...in our new location in North Beach in SF.... and was in a particularly surly mood.
why the surly mood? oh, let's see...my friend was being kind of a demanding dick via email (which, as most people know, is hard to figure out when people are kidding or are serious); dealing with the whole moving situation, fucked up phones and people talking my ear off when i have things that need to be finished; dealing with my living situation at home, as well as the unfortunate byproduct of a bad living situation with the relatively low-key tone my relationship has taken with my partner; and just my overall frustration with always being behind, always trying to get ahead, and the difficulty of focusing on shit, anything, yo.
yeah, so i was walking home from work today :)......
and amidst all this surly bullshit and heartache and me being pissed off at the world, i was given a little reality check.
i come upon this dude sitting on the corner, his head bowed down as if he's embarassed of being forced to beg for money on the streets. his sign said "until i find a job, i'm relying on your kindess" or something similar.
and on impulse, i threw a quarter into his used Starbucks cup (i could have had a long conversation about the dangers of supporting Starbucks but then again, that'd be fucking shallow and trite of me...sorry).
it was a reality check for me. for a couple seconds, i felt that guys pain. man, here i am worried about all this shit and this guy has nothing.
especially odd was the fact that i NEVER give these people any money. i never even look their way when they're asking me for money and usually ignore them...sometimes raising the ire of these people even more.
just fucked up. i think i see so much homelessness that i've become desensitized to it. plus so many of them go about it all fucked up, forcing their guilt and misery upon you in an instant in the hopes you'll be like "oh, damn, sorry for your situation. let me help you out."
yet, this guy, fuck, i didn't even stop to talk to him. i just kept on walking.
sounds so trivial but it's not. it affected me, obviously.
anyone that knows me understands that, try to follow here, i often feel like i'm just along for the ride and that my present consciousness is divided into parts...part of me is following along, part of me is doing what i want to do on impulse...conducting day to day activities because i have to. in other words, i don't know why i do the things i do. i'm aware of my faults and understand what needs to happen for me to be successful yet i can't seem to make things work all the time. i can't seem to get my shit together.
but then some people have told me i'm too hard on myself and that can't be healthy.
which, is totally true.
i am really really hard on myself. i wish i wasn't. yet, the further behind i get, the worse it gets.
and i understand that it's difficult to force myself day in and day out to go out and do shit, work all day, AND attempt to move forward in my writing career.
something's got to give and it feels like the writing of late.
plus i want to do my dj career even more.
so what the fuck do i want???? what the fuck do i want????
i don't know
yet somehow i know what i'm capable of...and i can't seem to do it.
i wish i was in some sort of situation where i had somebody to answer to, somebody who said "hey, we need this by such-and-such a date or you're going to die."
~~ chuckle ~~
ok, maybe not "die" per se, but you get what i'm thinking.
i have editors that hover dates over me and i cannot make the fucking deadlines. i cannot.
i don't know why. i ALWAYS push things to the limit. why why why? why can't i work ahead? why why why?
i need to make a tax appointment to do my taxes, i need to cancel my health club thing, i need to contact people and yet i don't do these things.
maybe part of it is understanding somewhere deep down that i cannot do everything and that taking too much on is only going to fuck me even more.
yet, i want to do these things. i want to do everything.
the problem is i'm inherently a social being in need of interaction with others, not to mention a constant curiousity that forces me to find out what the hell is going on all the time.
so much shit, damn.
how am i going to accomplish anything if i can't get anything finished.
"i just want to be who i am" - an appropriate line from this James Hardway album...speaking of, i'm yet again procrastinating by doing this now instead of writing my fucking story.
yet, my blog, of late, seems to bring me more joy than some of my writing does, even though i know i'm a music freak and know i'm good at what i do.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
i'm talking in circles, therefore putting my mind in a fucking circle.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
did i mention that i'm attempting to wean myself off the smoke slowly?
i've only gone two whole days and i'm kind of wiry, wandering, and a bit anxious.
yeah, that's it...anxious.
i can't stop thinking about the possibility of taking that pipe in my bag, walking down to yerba buena park next the metreon and taking a couple puffs.
part of me says "you'll be mad at yourself if you do it" and part of me is saying "if you don't do it, you're going to go a bit crazy tonight."
and both of me are right.
ha
on that note, i need to take a step back for a second and stop looking at the goddamn computer screen for a couple minutes.
i just need to breathe.
i just need to focus.
how do i do it?
how? how?
stop smoking pot asshole. sure, easier said than done.
two voices beating with one heart.
gotta love that.
love and hate,
tim
Sunday, February 24, 2002
rock out with your brand muffin.
picture the scene:
it's 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning
i'm listening to the minimal techno sounds of the new swayzak at a nice volume
it's sunny and kinda chilly yet good morning type warmth
a plane is just now flying thousands of miles over my head.
i'm on my second cup of delicious free trade peets coffee.
my kitties are asleep next to me on my futon.
i'm going to the ocean in three hours to transfer my MD recording of my set from last weekend to CD-R to use as a demo.
i'm about to write a couple stories for xlr8r.
this is me, today, right now.
life is cool sometimes.
have an excellent day.
your usurper of destruction,
bobby digital
picture the scene:
it's 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning
i'm listening to the minimal techno sounds of the new swayzak at a nice volume
it's sunny and kinda chilly yet good morning type warmth
a plane is just now flying thousands of miles over my head.
i'm on my second cup of delicious free trade peets coffee.
my kitties are asleep next to me on my futon.
i'm going to the ocean in three hours to transfer my MD recording of my set from last weekend to CD-R to use as a demo.
i'm about to write a couple stories for xlr8r.
this is me, today, right now.
life is cool sometimes.
have an excellent day.
your usurper of destruction,
bobby digital
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
LAMENTING PLOP
do you know,
where you're going to..
do you like the things that i liked before you did yesterday.
for those of you still waiting for the apocalypse, remember this.
it's already happened.
after all, we have a faux president named Bush.
and i have a skeleton.
that should be enough to warrant full-scale warfare.
also, whiny vocals by men kind of suck too. you know who you are.
new Boards of Canada released today.
HOLY SHITSTAIN!
it's amazing. leave me alone, now, whilst i kill all people who use the word "whilst" in serious conversation to show off their supposed intelligence.
i still mourn the loss of phil hartman.
i weep for you.
and you and you and you and you.
my hearts stink.
give me your heartlight, like don johnson did.
is don johnson still alive?
i hope not.
at least, not in this dimension.
i'm now listening to the latest "another late night" series...this one by zero 7. it's quite good. i like it. yes.
my mix rules the world.
everyone should bow down before the one they serve, for they're going to get what they deserve.
i must go,
leave all gewgaws on my doorstep.
fudge you.
poundcake is so not good.
from,
benny dee
Oh no, I think I just pappered me trollies
also, i just figured out my problem with delis.
see, i associate them with cold cuts, which are fucking annoying by themselves, but i think you NEED to have toasted bun, not bread (though toasted bread sometimes passes the timpratt test) to offset the meat and related stuff they slop on there.
it's waaaaay to easy to just slap together some cold-ass meat straight outta the fridge and a couple pieces of cheese and lettuce and mayo and call it a sandwich. see, that's bullshit. fuck that.
toast the damn bun. do something. why should i got to your lame deli? because it has "better meats?" yeah, more like better meats as long as they're not infested by workers' germs and fecal matter, which..btw, is on pretty much everybody's hands, unless you wash them superhardcore like every time you even come within range of a public restroom.
and if you're working anywhere, you're using a public restroom.
so stop with the deli shit.
fuck you delis.
you're not welcome.
get yourself a toaster. warm up the damn meat a little.
do something.
like i need another fucking roast beef sandwich with,ooooh, pepper jack cheese...wow, what a difference.
cold cuts suck ass
do you know,
where you're going to..
do you like the things that i liked before you did yesterday.
for those of you still waiting for the apocalypse, remember this.
it's already happened.
after all, we have a faux president named Bush.
and i have a skeleton.
that should be enough to warrant full-scale warfare.
also, whiny vocals by men kind of suck too. you know who you are.
new Boards of Canada released today.
HOLY SHITSTAIN!
it's amazing. leave me alone, now, whilst i kill all people who use the word "whilst" in serious conversation to show off their supposed intelligence.
i still mourn the loss of phil hartman.
i weep for you.
and you and you and you and you.
my hearts stink.
give me your heartlight, like don johnson did.
is don johnson still alive?
i hope not.
at least, not in this dimension.
i'm now listening to the latest "another late night" series...this one by zero 7. it's quite good. i like it. yes.
my mix rules the world.
everyone should bow down before the one they serve, for they're going to get what they deserve.
i must go,
leave all gewgaws on my doorstep.
fudge you.
poundcake is so not good.
from,
benny dee
Oh no, I think I just pappered me trollies
also, i just figured out my problem with delis.
see, i associate them with cold cuts, which are fucking annoying by themselves, but i think you NEED to have toasted bun, not bread (though toasted bread sometimes passes the timpratt test) to offset the meat and related stuff they slop on there.
it's waaaaay to easy to just slap together some cold-ass meat straight outta the fridge and a couple pieces of cheese and lettuce and mayo and call it a sandwich. see, that's bullshit. fuck that.
toast the damn bun. do something. why should i got to your lame deli? because it has "better meats?" yeah, more like better meats as long as they're not infested by workers' germs and fecal matter, which..btw, is on pretty much everybody's hands, unless you wash them superhardcore like every time you even come within range of a public restroom.
and if you're working anywhere, you're using a public restroom.
so stop with the deli shit.
fuck you delis.
you're not welcome.
get yourself a toaster. warm up the damn meat a little.
do something.
like i need another fucking roast beef sandwich with,ooooh, pepper jack cheese...wow, what a difference.
cold cuts suck ass
Tuesday, February 19, 2002
is there something wrong with gelatin?
must i be such a fine man as to prepare for war in such a dark and disturbing time? do you shave your back?
i once knew a man who had shingles on his roof.
and shingles on the roof of his mouth.
and shingles on his legs.
and other places we don't talk about with others.
this man, he was a kind man.
a gentle man, who never wanted to hurt anybody unless provoked.
yet, this lovely and relaxed man, was forced to deal with unspeakable terror and heartache.
and when you have your heart ripped out and stomped on and spat upon, there's just no getting around the pain and agony one is forced to endure.
these things take time and the only real healer is father time.
mother time is kind of a bitch and doesn't like to be bothered as she's up to her neck in activity. so father time is the man.
father time, a kindly soul, didn't take too kindly to our shingles man. and unfortunately, shingles man died soon after being confronted by father time.
see, father time reminded shingles man that he owed a lot of money to mother time and she was not down with him sucking off the teat without some kind of reward.
so father time merely presented him with the information and shingles man did what he thought was best in the face of certain desctruction.
he fell down a flight of stairs sort of on purpose, broke his right second toe, and died from eating a grape he found on the corner. the grape had been laced with ibonic desiree.
lethal when taken with broken toe medicine.
and so, shingles man no longer lives.
his shingles in ruin.
except for the ones on his leg, which are likely already rotted away and gobbled up by pesky nightcrawlers and raccoons with bowel problems.
and to think it all happened just because of magic and a stupid piece of gum.
how the devil works in mysterious ways.
no?
must i be such a fine man as to prepare for war in such a dark and disturbing time? do you shave your back?
i once knew a man who had shingles on his roof.
and shingles on the roof of his mouth.
and shingles on his legs.
and other places we don't talk about with others.
this man, he was a kind man.
a gentle man, who never wanted to hurt anybody unless provoked.
yet, this lovely and relaxed man, was forced to deal with unspeakable terror and heartache.
and when you have your heart ripped out and stomped on and spat upon, there's just no getting around the pain and agony one is forced to endure.
these things take time and the only real healer is father time.
mother time is kind of a bitch and doesn't like to be bothered as she's up to her neck in activity. so father time is the man.
father time, a kindly soul, didn't take too kindly to our shingles man. and unfortunately, shingles man died soon after being confronted by father time.
see, father time reminded shingles man that he owed a lot of money to mother time and she was not down with him sucking off the teat without some kind of reward.
so father time merely presented him with the information and shingles man did what he thought was best in the face of certain desctruction.
he fell down a flight of stairs sort of on purpose, broke his right second toe, and died from eating a grape he found on the corner. the grape had been laced with ibonic desiree.
lethal when taken with broken toe medicine.
and so, shingles man no longer lives.
his shingles in ruin.
except for the ones on his leg, which are likely already rotted away and gobbled up by pesky nightcrawlers and raccoons with bowel problems.
and to think it all happened just because of magic and a stupid piece of gum.
how the devil works in mysterious ways.
no?
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