Hey freaks.

I’ve been busier than usual with band stuff, so ehck out the archives of our newsletter. I am getting a lot of positive responses, so I guess people think they are funny.

There is a box at left with the archives of the newsletter in it, so click your little nips off.

Enjoy!

My two dads

The gentlemen in the photo at left are my gay dads.

They like museums and antiques and eavesdropping on people’s conversations. They get me all kinds of groovy clothes for Christmas every year, which I rely upon because I don’t like to shop. It works out pretty well.

I had a dream once, long before my dad came out to the family, in which my highschool French teacher Mr Brown was sitting in my dad’s lap. I found it pretty wierd, but it also kind of made sense in a way. Little did I know.

I don’t get to see my dads as much as I’d like to, but they still kick ass.

So here’s to you, my two dads!

Hey guess what? I have had an experience with astral projection and past life experiences, and I have discovered that I was previously the QUEEN of FUCKING SHEBA.

When I was a systems administrator, before I made the transition to full time assface, I had the opportunity to read people’s email. In the course of my duties, it sometimes became necessary to ensure that their mailboxes were working okay. This freaks people out, but it’s not a big deal, and here’s why.

People’s email boxes are boring as hell.

Go on, open your inbox and read all the messages. There may be one or two hot tickets in there containing offers for penis cremes and whatnot, but most of everyone’s email is boring bullshit.

So too are most everyone’s lives. You are lucky to get 30 seconds of happiness a day, and most people are the regular joe sort, like you and me. Maybe only %.1 of the population is famous, and yet all these past lives fuckheads used to be some famous aristocrat.

In a past life I shoveled shit. In the one before that I was a photographer, but I shoveled shit on the weekends. In the one before that I got fucked in the ear by an insane bear on a hunting trip and died of a resulting infection. The one before that is hazy, but I my celestial sources indicate that I was a roman soldier! In the shit shoveling brigade! Well slap my nips and hail Caesar!

Between psychic people and the stop light by the graveyard which always turns red and stops me so that NO ONE AT ALL can leave the graveyard at four in the fuck-balls morning, I have had a lot to fume about today. If it weren’t for my immense respect for the unfortunate dead people at the graveyard, I would wage a war of fearsome swears and vulgar epithets upon that fucking red light.

As it is, I just glare at it.

Feel the power!

My friend Timmy sent me this picture he took somewhere in the Caribbean.

Everyone is invited to feel the power.

Dear sir, we found another way to get our pushy, grubby paws on your money. Haha, sucka!

I hate the DMV so, so much.

I got this notice today. This, I feel, is the fault of Progressive insurance.

You see, I was late with my payment to the insurance company back in March. I called them, however, and asked if there would be any lapse in coverage. The girl I talked to said that there was a several-day grace period and not to worry about it. I made my payment on the 14th, so I was two days late.

During that time they sent an electronic notice to the DMV that I had had a lapse in coverage. This particular payment was a renewal and not an installment of my policy, a picadillo about which I was not informed when I called about this very sort of problem.

So now I have a pushy and threatening letter on my kitchen table from the DMV demanding $25 from me. It’s bad enough that I have to pay the $25, but what really burns my ass is the tone of the letter. There’s just no need for them to be nasty, particularly since they are essentially holding my vehicle registration ransom for $25. I wish I could earn $25 just for sending a letter.

First of all, there’s just no greeting on the letter whatsoever. Not “Hello”, not “How’s it going”, not even a “Dear sir” from an organization that eats my tax dollars and poops 100% pure headache in a neverending high-pressure jet. Where I’m from, the cultured refer to that as unfettered gall. I refer to it as a bunch of turtle shit.

From there the letter informs me that they received an electronic termination of coverage, followed a few days later by another saying it was back on, and that they’ve determined from all this that there was a lapse. Genius.

From there the letter demands $25 or else they will revoke my vehicle registration and possibly fine me $160. It reads like a ransom letter, just like all of these ridiculous missives from our bloated government.

I’m mad.

I also got a speeding ticket for rolling through one of the seven stop signs in a one mile path from the highway to my house. The stop signs do not increase the safety of our streets one iota. They do, however, represent a revenue stream for the city.

Sometimes I get frustrated with legislation and policy and so forth.