Saturday, November 19, 2011


(Thank you my Google Friend, who is here on in named Yes …Let’s work together.)

My friends were half red. They had been sprayed on one side by the fire alarm marker paint as they ran after me out of Minacca’s mansion in escape mode. The cloud of spray did not get into their eyes, thank goodness.

We were in dire need of goodness. Not much was to be found there in that mansion that night, you know.

Please press play as you read along. Let’s head back to the off-skirts of Fuckno in the mid eighties of the last century, and let’s go get Sean. Cool with you?

Get your head set.

Absynthe Minded. My Heroics. Dotta says that this is to be put here. Thank you Jaz for this bluesy funk.

You good? Let's go baby.

Of course, as the comedown crept over us and made our heads look for a pillow, those two looked to me for leadership. Such a poor form of leadership. Never do such a thing. Only darkness follows.

Yup, I used my ID card and told Katheena to hold it level. She had too much of the tremble to hold it steady.

Joey saw that and took the ID card from her, and he held it up like cement, like desert hard pan.

I opened the paper envelope and used the straw to dig in and then make three piles.

I held the straw for each of them, and then for myself.

Snuck, snuck, snuck. It was Fucked instant energy, from the eighties.

The straw was red from my finger tips. Perhaps it was from being sprayed by the fire alarm as I pulled it down?

No. Sorry about that.

I had made my fingers bleed by scratching up onto the tarred tiles of the roof where we sat now, with the golden light from the windows of the lovely mansion shining down, with its flashing emergency lights.

My two friends became my blood brother and sister, inhaling my blood on the straw. Gross, I know.

Blood relatives, in the worst ceremony ever; I never intended such a thing.

The worst way, because of the white, evil desert dust we three pink bastards inhaled on the roof of the rich pigs. Red and white, never the twain shall meet.


What is important here is the consideration of what it meant for a person to travel from a river culture tribe that has existed for ten thousand years in our own river valley, (named after us, as well as the ocean bay into which it runs, also named after us), and then I'd been deposited like river silt into a desert arroyo, in the Sans Joking River Valley.

Except, one thing.

The ocean is our savior. All rivers lead to it. The ocean washes away the sins of the past, the now, and the future.

Even if you end at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again, would you be seen again?

We three punks did not know that we were now related, but it mattered, and you will see, as we go along.


It was not raining down in the desert right then, not yet. The blur of watercolor folks below indicated what was about to happen.

Shit was about to get drenched, inside and out, like a tidal wave that would cover the whole earth, there in that Sans Joking River Valley.

Here we go, my friend.

We were young, we were full of fucked up energy that would not last another twenty minutes, and we jumped off the low, sloping, rear edge of the garage into the long, soft hay growing off to the right of the fuel tanks, and we rolled.

Nope, wouldn’t try that these days. Now go get me my walker and make me a nice pot of tea spiked with absinthe.

We dusted off and looked at each other under the light of the fraught-faced moon high above.

She was pissed. We were as well.

“Katheena, you good?”

“Yes, I am good.”

“You good Joey?”

“Nope. I’m bad. I’m fucking evil.”

I laughed. “Let’s go.”

Around the corner of the garage, I swear to gawd I saw the lovely front hood of Stacy, the bitch with the biker boyfriend. She was headed to her white Celica.


I turned around to mention this to my two buds, but they grabbed my leather with scared faces. Katheena shushed what I was about to say.

She said, “Look!”

Amid the blur of watercolor folks streaming about, a dark figure slowly walked back to the servant entrance and disappeared inside.


What the ---?


Katheena said, “What the fuck is up with that creepy guy?”

Joey said, “Time to bail. Not my problem.”

I looked back at them and pulled them close, and I glared into their eyes. My jaw was clenching from the desert dust. “No. We have to get Sean. I think he’s still up inside that mansion, up high. We need to go look for him. Fuck that old dude.”

I felt their arms tense up under their leather.

It was too easy to escape, chust run off, fuck it all, have a nice bath with candles and read the latest edition of Vogue or someshit.

Uh, nope.

You never leave a friend behind.

Even if Sean had done this to us.

He had been disappeared from us for a while, but in such a situation, he would never bail on us.

Even if he and Katheena had never met.

Next weekend, we will see the aftermath.

Just kidding. Come on, you know me by now.

Joey said, “Awwwww. Fuck. I knew you’d say that.”

Katheena shrugged. “OK. You are calling the shots, Will. Let’s go get him.”

Way off in the distance, we heard sirens. They sing their mournful song to lure men on the ocean to bring them to the shoals, to crash in their ships.

Katheena’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, Will! It’s raining inside! We will be drenched!”

Joey smiled. “Gonna ruin your pretty makeup?”

Katheena punched Joey in the arm. “No, you fucker! That shit Will has in his pocket will be soaked. We will need the last bit of it if I am going to drive us out of this hellhole!”

I looked down at her beautiful eyes. “You want to carry it and wait in your car for us?”

Now this was a crux, a sort of turning point, a testament.

This was where the Mettle of Katheena would be tested.

You see, neither me nor Joey would ever doubt the loyalty of Katheena again. But, as you well know by now, I had been fucked over by her in the Lorelei chapters.

What would you have done?

I nodded. “OK, Katheena. But you need to go around behind this place to get to your car way over there, on the other end. Too many people saw you. You kind of stick out.”

She giggled, and it was the sound of, well, you know by now. “We all do. Joey and I are all painted in red! Just hurry the fuck up.”

Joey looked at me, and I nodded. All would be good.

Of course it would.

She snuck off and we waited for an opening in the crowd. Of course, we watched her creep off, all bent over in her short black dress.

In the clear air of the dry desert night, which would soon be raining down with angry daggers, we found an opening in the blur when the last of the rich pigs emptied out of the huge mansion.

Over in the parking lot, headlights glared at assholes in front of them who lost their sense of reason and direction, and there were folks in purple robes and white aprons searching throughout, for we punk bastards. Limousines lined the exodus, amidst stupid people frittering about like ants.

Joey and I crept over to the rear entrance and went in. Yes, it was raining down. I think that this place had a huge water tank up top, put in place for such a thing as a fire. It was doing its job quite well, down here on the first floor, even if there was indeed no fire.

A dark shape in middle of the empty hallway slipped off to the right.


I hesitated, only for a moment, but it felt like forever.


I would not falter, in the face of my fear. My skin crawled, and it was not from the cold water raining down on us.

I shivered from the inside out.

Joey followed me through the mist down the hallway. Piercing alarms rang in our ears, which had the effect of disorientation upon our navigation. Water got into my eyes, and I had to keep rubbing them to get a clear view. It was hard to breathe in this air. It felt like a wet rag over my face and nose, like I could drown. Someday, people would call it waterboarding. How fucked up is that?

He stopped. “Weeeeee-ill! We go up these stairs! Where you going?”

I went on ahead to where the dark figure had passed in the blur of this mist of suffocating spray. He ran after me and yanked at my leather, pulling me back. I turned to him and wiped my face. “I got an idea!”

Joey wiped his own eyes and pointed back at the up-stairs. I shook my head, and swung around on my heel.

I got to where the dark figure had disappeared, and found a panel in the wall that was slightly open. Light streamed through its crack, so I pulled it all the way open.

Joey, gobless him, he was still right at my side.

We went in and up.

The rain was gone.

“Joseph, pull that door closed. We hidden now. I don’t think those cook staff know about this shit. Don't ask me why.”

“What about those weird fucks in the robes?”

I looked down at him. “I have no idea.”

We headed up.

This stairwell was cramped and suffocating, but at least there was no rain. There were a few cobwebs, but the floors were not dusty. They looked like they were swept with a broom now and then.

The overhead light bulbs here and there were the filament style, with no frosting inside their glass. Very old.

Something thing tugged at my leather, in my head. I stopped, looked down, and Joey fan into me.

“OOF! …Weeee-ill! Don’t make me smack into your ass with my face! What the fuck?”

“Sorry, Joseph. Wait.”

The steps were dry.

Dry as desert dust.

There were no wet footprints from a dark shape heading up them from the rainy hallway below.

What the fuck?

What the fuck was I getting us into?

What the fuck was going on?

(I hate to do this to you...)

See you next time.

Here are your links.

Beautiful cloud pics for your Saturday Morning leisure while you have your coffee.

Evil Geniuses. They start little.

Good geniuses: Casein is the fiber found in milk, and now clothing can be made from it. Hah? Milk has fiber? Interesting….

Never enough “Perfect Tailgating” hints

Check the Aurora Borealis from the ISS. Imagine this is your job: getting paid to fly high like those lucky folks.

Earth | Time Lapse View from Space, Fly Over | NASA, ISS from Michael König on Vimeo.

Pictorial study of the human face, always interesting. Fifty pics.

For your Saturday Morning viewing pleasure, 17 minutes of awesome. Behind the scenes making of the first Indiana Jones movie.

@jamieswb Raiding the Lost Ark: A Filmumentary - Part 1 from jambe davdar on Vimeo.

Speaking of interesting locales, here’s a volcano hotel in Chile.

Speaking of cool things, here’s one that isn’t. The Hipster.

Books hipsters would read. “You one knows about these!”

LinkOK, enough of that crap. Let’s have us some fun.

Pics of Pencil Vs Camera. Very cool.

Check out this kid. Young dude can sing.

Here are some hotels folks in the TDC Forums will love.

The se7en most lethal moves in NFL history, each with video. (Press No Thanks, bottom right on the annoying but non-lethal pop-up. Trust, bro.) Then start the slideshow.

Here’s an old gem. Homeless man Mustard on the Opie and Anthony show. Creep.

Thank you for following me along this tale, my friend.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

OK, Two More for your musical exploration.

Asa. (Pronounced Aysha) "Jailer." My Lady loves this. Thank you Lisa, for showing me a smooth crooner. I keep watching 2:35 – 3:20 over and over again. Chick knows her shit, dude. It’s blues, and not jazz here; Nigerian flavored, baby.

Clean version here.

Second one:

The Original Punkologist, Neil Young. First time for his classic, Old Man. And the story behind it, in the first five seconds.


Welcome to The NEW Daily Column!!