The reckoning has come and I am numb to everything here and after. Your laughter means nothing—empty echoes in a sealed drum. You can’t get to me with any of it. I am lost in space—the distance between you and me.

I want to know where you go when the damned come dancing in. Do you shield your eyes, scared of reprise, or does your ego let you stare through? I think I know as your answer is slow and your teeth chatter like dice. Nothing can save you now, no way, know how. You are one of them my cryptic friend doomed to follow that white line…

-The world pulls its panties down exposing its equator. I am aghast, for the world at last, has shown me its junk. I pull clouds from the sky to cover the nakedness, but the nastiness shows through. My innocence gone, I am a deranged pawn unable to live a lie like you. There are consequences for building up fences and so this I cannot do. I am cursed to be adverse to this depravity. Eyes like headlights my deer…

240 Pounds - 0ff Season - I gained 40 pounds in a month by eating Little Debbies

Roided Out

Well, it seems there has been another steroid bust here in the midstate. One of those arrested was a guy I went to high school with. He has been arrested numerous times for rape and drugs and god knows what else. If you went to Boiling Springs or Carlisle you will know whom he is. I won’t mention his name only because I don’t want people searching for him to end up on my blog. He is a sociopath and I do hope he remains in jail for a long time. He is the sort of person who will end up killing someone if he is on the streets. Evidently he and his ex-wife were injecting clients with steroids in their gym. I personally couldn’t give a shit if people take steroids. Although I’ve never taken them I think it is a personal decision that the government has no right to intervene in. They are however illegal and to see this cocksucker go down is a good thing. He could be in for 30 years.

Another one of those arrested was a guy I’ve known casually for over ten years. I knew him well enough to say hi to him in the gym and he referred clients to me. I suspected in the past he took steroids because he got pretty big for a while. He is a college basketball coach. Hmm, do you think he might have been giving some of the steroids to his players? The funny thing is with all these steroids going around you would expect to see a bunch of huge guys walking around the gym. I am usually very surprised to find that a certain person is on or has taken steroids. The results you would expect just aren’t there. These people expect to get huge taking steroids and putting minimal effort in at the gym. It doesn’t work that way. I’m much stronger and more muscular than most of these guys in my gym that take drugs. I’m not bragging. What I’m saying is that steroids aren’t a miracle drug. You have to eat right, sleep right, take the right supplements, do your cardio, know how to workout and on and on and on. Sure, there are some people that can take steroids and get huge without doing everything properly but they are the exception. For most people steroids are a short cut to mediocrity. People want a quick fix and they don’t want to put in the effort and no matter what you take this is never a recipe for success…

Connecting would mean reckoning with the troubles in my head. You see I was built wrong—square pegged into this rounded world. The lights being on and someone home--vying for the closeout sale on my brain. I suppose my mind is worth something and it could be rebuilt; stripped down to the cerebellum, fissures ground smooth, fresh coat of thought sprayed on. The owner of this rebuilt brain must of course drive it with caution because it will only go 100 miles per hour or faster. Please buckle yourself in new owner for no one has ever seen the things you are about to see…

-My heart has been uprooted from my chest by your anger, like a truffle tilled from the soil by a pig’s snout. I thought I knew you—that tilted smile with those bubblegum lips—but you turned on me. You went inside out on me and morphed into a creature I would have rather not known--demon eyes and giant red nose holes (all the better to do blow with my dear). Now, I lie awake in the dark afraid, knowing you very well could be in my closet waiting to suck the last bit of love from my veins. You are a love sucker, a dream killer and so I sleep with a necklace of garlic around my cock…

Sensi, Aunt Patty, Bowie

I’m sick of hearing about these people claiming to see Jesus’ image burned into a potato chip or in the bark of some tree. Now some guy is claiming Jesus’ image showed up on his driver’s side truck window. First of all, how in the hell does t his guy know what Jesus looked like? The image I see on the truck window looks like John Lennon. There are plenty of photographs of John Lennon but no authentic paintings of Jesus that I am aware of--maybe because they didn’t have cameras back then? It is also possible that Jesus was black. I know strike me down with a lightening bolt but I’ve seen John Lennon in movies, photographs, and on TV so I know what he looked like. So, I think people should start saying that they are seeing John Lennon’s image when a bearded dude shows up in their noodle soup. I would believe that more since Jesus could have been a black man with an afro or a fat guy with a huge nose…

Okay, did you read about this guy that got mauled in a bear enclosure in Switzerland recently? They say he was mentally disabled…uh, do you think so? What the hell is it with people crawling into bear enclosures? You’ll recall a similar incident in which a woman was attacked by a polar bear in a Berlin zoo last April. They didn’t say this woman was mentally disabled but my guess would be either she was or she was on some sort of hallucinogenic that made her think the polar bear was an ice-cream cone. Humans continue to baffle me. Any other animal would know not to go into that enclosure and I’m sure some of them are mentally disabled. So why does the human animal continue to do such stupid things? Oh, I forgot we're not animals we are the center of the universe...

So I was thinking. Yes, I know it is cause for concern but let’s not concentrate on me, let’s concentrate on you. On your curves and your words—the sexy way you hold your cigarette. You are beautiful even with a mustache of Guinness and the wind blowing your hair into a tumbleweed. And then of course I fucked it up. I drunkenly asked to squeeze your ass when clearly I should have just done it. Now, I am alone and sit here and stare at pictures of you and wonder what could have been if I would have just kept my mouth shut.

John, Mom, Sensi, Kristie

Bowie, Pop Pop, Sensi

The rain comes down and the sky is filled with sorrow. I want to wipe the dirty clouds from the sky and make it shine like blue again. For you, yes, I would do this. You are beautiful beyond recognition...I know I’m not thinking straight—crooked thoughts are jagged and cut up my mind. All those pieces and you are the glue. Smile again so I can put them back together…

Fat Harvest

You may not consider Peru to be an innovator in much of anything. Hell, maybe they are and I just don’t know about it but some entrepreneurs in that country have changed my mind. There is a group there that call themselves the Pishtacos, which oddly sounds like fish tacos to me. At any rate, some members of this gang were caught for killing fat people and selling their fat. That’s right, they would lead unsuspecting fat people out into the countryside by falsely advertising jobs. Once they had them in the countryside they would kill them and extract their fat. Police believed the fat was being sold to European companies for cosmetic reasons.

This made me think. What if we harvested our fat people? Would this get us out of the economic slump we are now in? Evidently the Pishtacos were making $15,000 per liter of fat. With the obesity epidemic here in the US that equates to one hell of a big payday. We could stuff them like cattle with cheap carbohydrates and watch them balloon up and then harvest them. I think Haliburton and Dick Cheney might want a piece of this action. I will call him and see if he is in. If this plan goes through then the US will once again be number one in something other than just being fat. We will be the fat suppliers to the world.

Grammy and Scarlett

Chris, Scarlett, Kara

Well mines about this long...I do hope you were talking about camera lenses.

I was reading about magazines that were accused of airbrushing pictures of babies. Apparently there was a strong backlash when the public found this out. This portion of the population feels no baby should ever be airbrushed for any reason. Uh, really? Whether people want to admit it or not their are some really heinous babies out there. I see nothing wrong with making an ugly baby a cute baby. If airbrushing makes me forget the kid once looked like a gremlin then I am all for it. They airbrush adults so why is it wrong to airbrush babies? These people need to find a real cause and fight for it. Like supporting Sara Palin so she can further destroy the Republican party. Then again she seems to be doing just fine on her own but you get my point...

Get your mammograms

Ladies please do not listen to the advice of this government panel that says women don’t need to get mammograms until they are fifty. Bullshit. The American Cancer Society is saying that you should get the mammograms when you are forty or earlier if you have a family history of breast cancer. From the article Cause for concern in the Patriot News Today: “Some of the local experts wondered if the new guidelines might have been influenced by the drive to lower health care costs and insurance premiums.” Uh, do you think so? I sure as hell do. We wouldn’t want to have the insurance companies take a hit on their profits would we? So they would deny coverage of mammograms to keep costs down and kill women in the process. All these cocksuckers care about is profit. Human life to them is a commodity to be bought and sold.

This is a government panel and we all know that government is often swayed by special interests. From what I’ve read I believe this to be the case. It’s the same with the damn food pyramid. Do you think the recommendations they give are for your health? Hell no. If I ate according to the food pyramid I’d have ¼ less muscle and twice the bodyfat at least. They are trying to get rid of surplus food not make you healthier. And so I wouldn’t trust some half-ass panel of “experts” when they say you ladies don’t need mammograms in your forties. The government is not to be trusted in matters pertaining to your health. If you don’t believe me go ahead and skip your mammograms and eat as the food pyramid dictates. You may not be around long…

I wonder where you are and with who. Not that it matters but yeah, maybe it does. I guess it shouldn’t but I think it does. Scratch that, I know it does. So, how are you? And what have you done? Is that smile still in place? Are your eyes still wide and shining? Is the earth still spinning and if so can you prove it to me? Because I’m not sure anymore about any of it; not the stars or the moon or the cold wind on my face. I sit on my deck and everything feels fabricated and unreal. I chase away the loneliness with beer and my mind begins to slip away. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know who I am. I just ask that you forgive me for being me because I couldn’t be anything else.

Sensi and Pop Pop

Kristie and Bowie

Senegal, Africa 1998

Flea 1993-2007

My sister lives in the town I went to high school in and Saturday I went over to her house to help her husband put together bunk beds for the two youngest kids. It was great fun…uh, well, maybe not great fun but I was happy to help. As I drove home I passed the house of a bully that used to pick on me when I was younger and whom I consequently beat up years after the bullying started. To my surprise I saw him standing in his parent’s driveway as I passed by. He was leaning against the garage door talking on a cell phone. It was a pathetic sight. His face was bloated and his stomach stuck out way over his belt. He was bald except for thick graying hair around the sides of his head and his skin was blotchy and red. In his free hand he was holding a can of Budweiser and a cigarette dangled from his lip. He had become as ugly on the outside as he had been on the inside.

Baby I miss you today and I don’t know why because I don’t even like you. It’s a trick of the brain, a sympathetic misfire perhaps or the pressure of an aneurysm ready to burst. Whatever it is it can’t be good and I’m thinking I should seek the attention of specialist. Yes, I do think this is the answer. I will hire a hit man to erase your memory it is too hard on my health…

Whoever started the talking baby commercials needs to be put in a stockade and whipped for a week. These commercials are not funny. They are annoying as fuck. Babies are cute because they CAN’T talk. They coo and laugh and move their legs and arms spastically. They don’t type on computer keyboards and discuss stocks. What the fuck is funny about that? Can someone enlighten me?

My niece wearing her mom's shoes

Uma and Burma Tussling

Squat 475 x 5 - Billie missed my set of 500 x 5

Spun

My head is spun and I’m coming undone, strand by tiny strand. My brain is mad cow, there is sweat on by brow and I’m drifting. Fuck, I want to grab hold, reel myself back into being but how and where and who? I’m in danger of never coming back, of staying off track of never being anything to anyone. I need clarity, to focus on the calamity that my life has become. Can you help me back? Can you forget the past and tow me into the future? I’ll pay you in riddles or dig ditches in your dreams. Just, please, please don’t forget me.

Weezy and me - 1999

Number 32 in your program. Number 1 in your heart. ha ha 1988

Me and Brother Senegal Africa 1999

Mr. Peanut I

I was recently on Facebook and I saw these pictures on one of my friend's profiles. The dog in the Mr. Peanut suit is Trapper. His owner is Jenn Bender. I had to show everyone this creative getup. How cute is that?

Mr. Peanut II

A little bad, a lot good. Somewhere in-between I twitch unnaturally. I know I’ve pushed it too far this time. Every time. I’ll stop soon. I promise myself something better but nothing ever comes of it. I’ll forgive myself when the dirty sleep finally comes…

So, after much thought I’ve started another rewrite of my Burma Ludlow novel. I had originally used different voices throughout the book but in this version I will stick with just Burma’s voice. It will work better this way. Trust me. My goal is still to have this done sometime in the spring and send it to my editor. I just hope he can get to it soon. I don’t want to have to wait but of course this might be the case.

Here are two of my Burma Ludlow stories that are on Thuglit.com.


One Night


Private Craps Shooter at Dawn

Billie wanted to see pictures of me with hair...

Wow Nice Hair

Dear God I hope that isn't loaded

The rain was cold and had soaked through my clothes but I was too scared to move from inside the thick bushes. I started to shiver and all I could think about was warmth. There was only one place I could go and be safe and before I knew completely what had happened I realized I was running. Down the side of the busy road I ran, the cars splashing me as they whizzed by. The cold rain stung as it hit my face and my wet clothes rubbed my skin raw but I continued to run. People driving by looked at me. I’m sure they wondered what a kid was doing out this late in such a bad storm.



I took my pocket knife out of my pocket and held it in my palm in case a weirdo tried to stop and attack me. Up ahead I saw the lights of the convenience store and I ran even harder. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. There was six inches of water sitting in the parking lot but it didn’t slow me down. I didn’t stop running until I hit the brick wall next to the pay phone.



I pulled the change from my pocket and put a quarter in the pay phone and dialed. “Please be home, grandma,” I said, trying to catch my breath. The phone rang and rang but she didn’t answer. She wasn’t home. I sat on the curb for what seemed like hours and then decided to walk to her house. It would take the whole night and I would have to go through bad neighborhoods but I couldn’t stay there.



The rain had stopped by the time I started walking. There were hardly any cars on the road now. I walked and walked until the sky turned red. I turned and a cop told me to stand still.

Me and my niece Scarlett

Kristie, Amanda, Jill Cottage 2003

Dear Governor Rendell,



I received the correspondence from your secretary dated November 5, 2009. I assume it met your approval since I found a hamburger grease finger print stain on the stationary which I had a friend at the FBI run and it turned out to be yours. The signature was stamped so I would have had to otherwise question the authenticity of said document.



Pertaining to your comments on our beloved Phillies: Yes, it’s a damn shame the Phillies lost the World Series to the most despicable organization in professional sports, the New York Yankees. To even the playing field I suggest you go ahead and sell the Turnpike to the Swiss or whoever the hell wanted the damn thing and use the proceeds to buy up every baseball player in MLB with a batting average over .290 or has an ERA below 3.00. Then we can have 27 World Series Championship banners hanging in Citizens Bank Park. I also think it would be prudent for you to know that Derek Jeter gave Jessica Alba herpes as reported by many sleazy magazines. Google it, you’ll find it to be true. Yes, he is the smug little jackass we all think he is. At any rate, think on this subject and let me know if I can help the Phillies in any way for the 2010 season. Oh, and if you need anyone to interview ball girls my partner Muggsy and I are up for the job.



Now, to the business at hand, my partner and I question the free service clause you suggested for the current and future governors at brothels if they were to become legal. Now, I would have no problem allowing this opportunity for you. Hell, I would let you screw the women on a mattress made of cheese steaks and I would provide the cheese steaks. No, what I am concerned with is who might replace you as governor. What if it were a Republican? As we all know the higher echelons of the party are largely comprised of sexual deviates in denial. It is not uncommon to find one of these bastard homophobes being caught trying to suck the pecker of an undercover cop in a McDonald’s bathroom and afterward claiming they slipped in a puddle of urine and merely fell towards the cop’s night stick. Inevitably this bastard will be the leader of some anti-gay organization. They hate women! If you force one of them to come to our brothel we could have a real mess on our hands. I assume you’ve heard of Jack the Ripper? You don’t think he was a self-hating homosexual? Who knows what they would do to a beautiful woman when deep down in their closeted souls they really want to be with a man? The possibilities are too frightening for me to get a grip on completely.


I know you once compared prostitution to contract killing but we both know you said that because it was the politically correct thing to do. I have no problem with that as I know you have to appear squeaky clean to get into office. In the tabloids they have linked you to the prostitute Elliot Spitzer had been using. Again, none of my business but this shows me we can work together.

What would you suggest? I think we include the clause for you but have it run out at the end of your term. How does that sound? There’s nothing wrong with being gay but hiding it can cause all sorts of problems. I think we need to put together a think tank for this issue to come up with the best possible solution. Please get back to me as soon as possible on this matter. Muggsy and I will be at the Bunny Ranch this weekend but you can shoot me an E-mail. Thank-you for your time my old friend.



Yours truly,

Kerouacked



P.S. We should also work to eliminate the DH. It gives the American League an unfair advantage in inter-league play. Also, let’s work to do away with the winner of that stupid Allstar game getting home field advantage in the World Series. Use your influence Big Ed. I know you can do it. Again anything I can do to help even the playing field I will do.

Kristie and Baby Uma - 1992

Pig Flu

Two nights ago upon leaving the gym I felt somewhat woozy, as if someone had sucked the oxygen out of my head with some super powered industrial vacuum cleaner. My stomach churned and as I made my way towards the car I smelled burned hair. My first reaction was to consider I was having a stroke. For I’ve heard people strangely report smelling burned hair when having a stroke. My fears were eased when I saw a guy with long hair lighting a cigarette and he had accidentally caught his mane on fire. Naturally I would have tried to help him put out his head but I was in no condition to do so. I figured he had enough hair between him and his head that he would be able to put it out before his scalp started to sizzle like a piece of scrapple on skillet.

When I reached my car I began to shiver and my hand shook as I pulled the door open. It was then that I realized I might have contracted the blasted swine virus that had been galloping across the landscape. How I might have contracted this dreaded bug was a baffling goddamn mystery. I had thoroughly sanitized myself and my surroundings wherever I went. Yes, of course people got pissed off at me when I sprayed them with bleach when I came into contact with them but so is the cost of self-preservation. Sometimes you have to make a few enemies to stay healthy. I wore a surgical mask, rubber gloves and rubbed my body down with hand sanitizer, all to no avail. This damn pig flu had been tricky. Obviously there had been some sort of hole in my defenses but what? And then it hit me. While I was on the treadmill a very attractive women and I had been chatting. I said something witty, which of course comes naturally to me, and she playfully hit me in the arm. Aha! Yes, this was when I must have contracted the bug. I slammed my car door shut and headed back towards the gym. I would find this germ spreading seductress and suggest we ride this pig sickness out together in front of my fireplace on my giraffe fur rug, naked of course but first I needed to puke…

The bomb squad had to visit my house last night because some derange psychopath left a curiously wrapped package on my stoop. I turned out to be a detonating device screwed into 20 pounds of C4, enough high end explosive to make yours truly and any neighbor within 1000 yards of him instant confetti. Luckily I had trained my ever faithful Chihuahuas to sniff out bombs in case anything like this were to ever occur and when I released them they ran straight for the box and urinated on it, indicating to me that they were marking their territory or there was something malicious inside. I suspected the latter of the two since I am naturally paranoid and prone to illusions of grandeur and lucky I am because it did indeed turn out to be a bomb. You see when one fights for justice and truth and the will of the people they will cause fear in those who suppress and stomp on these freedoms.

With the movement Muggsy and I have begun to get a legal brothel in Harrisburg I figured the whackos would start coming out of the plastic woodwork but I never thought they would find their way out this quickly. Evidently one of Rendell’s staffers is a mole working for the crazy Christian right. I can’t figure who else would have leaked the information about our plans. Unless it was one of you bastards that reads this blog. If it was I will have to remind you that by entering this blog you give up all rights. This is not a democracy you have entered but a dictatorship, a dictatorship that preserves democracy but a dictatorship just the same. I was merely testing you my dear readers. I know none of you would expose my plans but you understand I had to show my full hand for this mission Muggsy and I are on must not be derailed for ANY REASON! So, if you know of anyone trying to stop this very important political mission turn the bastard over to me and he or she will be dealt with accordingly. Thank-you, your full cooperation is greatly appreciated.

P.S. Oh, and yes I have considered that the bomb was left by a certain crazy delusional woman. This avenue is also being thoroughly investigated. The Chihuahuas have picked up a scent and are trailing the maker of this bomb as we speak. If it is this woman they are to go for the jugular and ask questions later.

Uma and Burma after a long hard day of sleeping

1993 - Me, Baby Flea and a pot plant that I will not claim ownership to

Dear God say it isn’t so. It appears that the apocalypse is upon us here in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I’ve packed my Prius with all the belongings I could stuff in it and am leaving in the morning. This included the antique gun collection my grandfather bequeathed to me when he was locked in a nursing home. Yes, I oiled and cleaned them and got myself a forty-gallon drum of black powder at Walmart. The hope is that I won’t have to fight my way out but you never know these situations often turn hostile. The people of Harrisburg have elected a complete fool as their mayor. The city ship won’t sale long with her at the helm. I’m sure it will sink deeper into the Susquehanna and rest on the bottom with the mercury and other pollutants.

I’ve also stocked up on girlie magazines…I’m sure you are asking why I didn’t just buy porn DVD’s or just plan to get on the Internet and look at free porn sites. The reason is this situation will most likely worsen quickly and we will be left without electricity or your precious Internet. Yes, that’s why I’ve stockpiled the girlie magazines and about 1200 long lasting batteries for various flashlights and lamps I plan to use when I drive up north to my secret bunker. I hope you all make it through this if you decide to stay. Oh, and I have room for three or four hot women in my bunker if anyone else wants to split. If I were religious I’d pray for your souls but since I’m not I’ve left several cyanide tablets in a pill bottle and dropped them in my downstairs toilet tank. Use them if you need them and remember that dying is only cowardly if you have a choice.

Scarlett and Chris

Gary and Jackie

Seth and Sensi

-I drive a Prius and its not because I think its cool or because I can’t afford something else. Sure, I could drive a giant SUV with 40 inch tires that gets three miles per gallon but I don’t because I’m not concerned with what anyone thinks about what I drive. I drive what I drive to get from point A to point B. I drive what I drive for your kids’ future and the future of the planet. Do I want a woman to like me because I drive a Lexus? Fuck no, that’s not my kind of woman. So, you can make your jokes and I’ll laugh along because inside I’m all right with myself. I don’t need to compensate for inadequacies like a small mind and smaller viewpoints. I’m cool with who I am.

She asked me if I could get any fatter and I didn’t reply. Sure it hurt but I used it as motivation to transform body. Two years later at a party she wanted the new me—kept running her hand over my abs. I slept with her and never talked to her again. I want to thank her because she changed my life. No, really. Thank-you bitch you changed my life…

Living in a slow Hell

You will find yourself with a mouthful of tongue, her hips grinding against your crotch and the de ja vu will hit you like a steel plated backhand. Same theme club a few months earlier, ditto on the tall and blond, minus the tattoos and you--much more passionately--mugging down this time. You will notice two of the same tube top bartenders and they will gaze at you with tabloid eyes. Snap. In the moment you will be THAT GUY. You will always be THAT GUY.

No one will want to get to know you. One drunken fuck up and you’re out.

I thought you were funnier she will say and you will reply that you can’t always be ON all the time, that you’re not Robin Williams except on paper and then only sometimes. So you drink more to be ON more and soon you are ON less and less.

You will call and the phone will grow cold; icicles on the antenna. Reality will mesh with fantasy. They will confuse you for who they want you to be, the guy in the words, your words, the persons you create. The God you always wanted to be. You really will start wearing Burmese Jungle boots and you will brawl and you will drink so that you can live up to a someone that was never even born, their someone, the one with words for eyes.

You will come to find yourself wandering amongst these words; lost. You will reach out and they will stomp your fingers and watch you slide off the edge of a paragraph down into the open pages of a dictionary. More and more you will identify with the words-- flesh melding with ink. Soon you will be nothing but words and a sneer.

You will most definitely come to know that you will die but it’s something you’ve been putting off because you’re not sure if you’re alive anymore. You pinch yourself to make sure you’re still there and what you grab will feel like the pages of a book and you will get your first tattoo and it will be your name, just like you would sign on a dust jacket at a book signing…

-You may find yourself driving continuously, your eyes open but not seeing anything until you notice a sign that says French Quarter 5 miles. You will have drunk yourself silly with coffee and be damn near insane with talk radio but still you drive on. You say out loud, “Twenty-two hours straight,” and then you remember your mom telling you she was in labor with you for 48 hours and suddenly another mile stone loses its significance.

As soon as your feet hit the ground you start with the booze and you soon forget what it was you wanted to forget. Your sister’s boyfriend will know all the bartenders and in every bar in the Quarter and they will force free alcohol down your throat. You are a willing victim and wait for last call to save you but it never comes.

Dawn now and you will realize that nothing ever closes down here especially your brain and then you remember what is was you were trying not to remember. Her. You will stumble upon a pay phone and there will be a piss stain on the wall underneath it. You will ignore the pungent aroma and dial anyway. The phone will ring and ring and ring and finally she will answer in a sleepy voice. You will tell her how drunk you are and she will be unimpressed. So you will try not to slur your words but shit faced still sounds like thit thaced. Still you press on because you don’t know what else to do. You will say you’re sorry and that you will never do IT again but before you can say I love you she will slam down the phone. Now you can’t ignore the smell of the piss and the sinking feeling in your gut and you puke up everything just as a cop walks by.

You will wake up on the floor of your sister’s apartment to the sound of giant cockroaches clicking their nasty feet against the wood floor. You get up and go out back to the slave quarters that are abandoned and rotting. Inside one of the tiny rooms you will find an ancient steel bed frame and lie down on it. You hear things scurry across the rotting floor and you smile because you’re not alone…

-Muggsy and I had a meeting with Ed Rendell yesterday and he assured us that he will try to tack on an amendment to the bill to legalize table games in Pennsylvania that will allow us to open a Bunny Ranch type establishment in Harrisburg. Of course we had to make a substantial political contribution, promised not to show up drunk to any more fundraisers and offered him use of the Leer jet when we aren’t flying around the world. He drives a hard bargain. Oh, and we must have the Leer Jet stocked with cheese steaks and Pabst Blue Ribbon when he takes it out. I think he would have agreed to our terms if we had just promised not to show up drunk to fundraisers but we were good sports and sweetened the deal so he couldn’t say no.

So, it seems that if the goddamn puritanical bastards in this state don’t vote down that bill we will have a Bunny Ranch type establishment in less than two years. It concerns me that there might be an uprising by religious zealots who could cause an uproar and possibly override our considerable political clout. Yes, they may try to sway those legislatures that would vote on the bill so I am asking you my friends to back our cause and send us cash contributions for the backlash that could come our way. Thank-you for your time. Have a wonderful day. Oh, and if anyone has any ideas for a name for our establishment please submit ideas to this blog…

Me and Judy

Steve Bent Over Row - 315x9

Billie Exercising

Big Todd Deadlifting 545x5

Uma and Burma at Halloween - Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie

-You have forgotten in a month’s time? What a small mind you dwell in. What a small heart echoes in your chest. It is of course for the best. My world continues to grow--I spread myself out over the map thinner and further. The limits you impose are to me artificial means of corralling the spirit. So, sit and be blob like. For you it is right. For me it is death…

After some smooth talking Muggsy and I were allowed back at the Bunny Ranch. Not having been there for several weeks we left Friday and got back late Sunday night. We flew in Muggsy’s new Leer Jet. He sold off his coffee company to Starbucks and bought himself that little gift so we don’t have to fly commercial anymore. Very nice.

On our way back last night Muggsy suggested we open our own Bunny Ranch in Pennsylvania. He is personal friends with Ed Rendell and is trying to get him to talk to the right people about legalizing such an establishment in Pennsylvania. I hope this comes to fruition as jet fuel prices have been rising and I don’t want Muggsy to burn through his millions too quickly. We have a lot of adventures to fund…

-Another early memory is of my Dad making pizza on the countertop in our apartment in Union Deposit. The counter top seemed to me a mile long but when I went back many years later it was barely big enough to lay two plates on side by side.

I remember looking up and watched him as he laid out the dough in the pan and then put sauce and cheese on it. I wanted to get closer to get a better view. Everything seemed so far away from down there. I moved towards the oven. Dad put his hand down in front of me. “No, don’t go over there its HOT.” He wasn’t being mean just warning me that I might get burned. The white oven would heat up almost as hot on that outside as it did on the inside. HOT was my first word.

I remember being in awe of my Dad making pizza. Why I remember this I don’t know. Maybe the pizza was really good?

James, Muggsy, Drew, Me

Mye holding my niece Scarlett and Michael holding his son

-My Dad is a whistler; at least he was when we were kids. You know how some people sing along to songs? My Dad would whistle tunes on the radio. Was he good? Well, I don’t know. Is any whistling good? Do you still whistle to the radio Dad? Sometimes when my brother and I get together and we’re in the car we start whistling. We can never make it even part way through a song because we start laughing. It reminds of us when we were young and Dad would be whistling as we drove to wherever it was we were going.