On Thursday, I am scheduled to discuss my "writing process" with a bunch of high school students in a creative writing class.

Hello class. I have a blog. I am not going to tell you the location of this particular blog, but I will tell you that it is quite possibly the best blog ever created (by a white). Here's why:

1. This blog is FUCKING HILARIOUS.
2. This blog is frequented by pornography spammers from both Japan AND Russia.
3. This blog is on a steady decline, which would be a bad thing if I had not taken ownership of it in the third item of a post dated April 29, 2012.
4. This blog has dreams of its own to one day own a Papa Murphy's franchise.
5. Former NBA superstar Rik Smits is a personal friend of this blog.
6. Like Neil Young's "Time Fades Away," this blog will never be re-released, intensifying the pleasure of owning it.
7. This blog has been seen long-boarding on the streets of Sacramento with its hair bleached and spiked and reciting catch phrases "on-point" and "that's money."
8. Did I mention the fucking hilarity of this blog?

Caption Contest

These pictures need "hilarious" captions. Want to help?

The world is turning. I hope it don't turn away.

Enter this purgatorial state. The crowd of people, the wooden table (a relic of the 1950s), the fingers, a knuckle crack, a note, a note, a couple more, a lonely animal, a flyer for an Indian reservation. Plants, coasters, the blue haze remnant of a blinking eye lingering, the man alone at the microphone.

I think I'll get out of town.

Suddenly I remember land lines, these ancient ties to the past, a hard wire connection to another person.
Suddenly I remember land lines,  overwhelmed now by digital static. Three letters.

Upon watching a homemade video and then checking the web link for the festival at which the video's producer will be appearing.

Everything has a press photo, and it makes me ill.

A half-bored interest in food

 The fattest men weigh as much as bears. Lumbering towards their man-cave walls eventually removed by chainsaw, on a semi-network broadcast, fed to me, fed to them, a miracle will save you. (I am not sure the metaphors they use are as gracious, as powerful, as mine.)

The fattest men weigh as much as bears. Murderous, chaotic, hostile.

A State of hibernation, and self-discovery

I think you, you should not keep it.

You should destroy it.

Album Titles (and the bands who created them) I Am Making Up As I Type Them

Traction Socks--Open Heart Urgery
My Best Friends Wedding's Best Man Best Actor--Part Yert
Return of the Grow--Pawstricken
Drew Up--Lit
Men With Great Futures Create Wes--Jeep
Can You Bleieve This? -The Dead Squalk
Not for Nothing, Jesus--Nunn0))))))

Some people turn to God, others turn to gods

I am the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of Man.