So we just had a hurricane.
I got my lights back on day before yesterday.
I was watching larry king last night.
Anderson Cooper comes on to do a promo for his show, which will follow larry king.
Anderson Cooper shows the iconic video from hurricane Ike, of the lone house on Bolivar, surrounded by the debris of nearly every other home on the peninsula. Anderson Cooper says something about how he will have an interview with the owner of that home coming up next.
And larry king, larry king, that fucking piece of shit lizard faced talking colostomy bag, larry fucking king cackles and says, "Ha ha, that guy sure doesn't have any neighbors, haha." In a tone, like, you know, life is way better without neighbors. All private beach and shit. Right?
No, larry king, you fucking asshole moron piece of shit, that guy sure does not have any neighbors. You know why larry king? Because a fucking hurricane came by and blew all the neighbors homes and belongings away. You fucking dirtbag serial trophy wife fucker. You fucking stinking colostomy bag of a shit hole ( I know I used the colostomy bag comparison earlier in the post, but I really, really think he's just a thin membrane of dried mucosa completely filled to bursting with mossy, liquid shit).
It's not funny, larry king, you fucking Alzheimer poster boy. People lost everything they owned and some lost their lives. And you sit there in your Depends undergarment, stinking up a studio with your rancid breath and laugh about how some guy now has the beach all to himself. haha
I have friends who had homes there. That was a community. And it was wiped out. And you laughed about how some lucky guy had no more neighbors.
Fuck you larry king.
Fuck you larry king
Fuck you larry king.
And fuck you cnn for keeping this brainless lizard man, who doesn't even know who his guests are any more, on the air.
Oh yeah, fuck you larry king.
With all due respect and from Uncle Walt.
ps. fuck you larry king.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Absent friends
He rolled past the bar, not looking sidelong into the picture window but concentrating self conciously straight ahead. He turned right two blocks past and came back around the bar again about two minutes later. Still rolling past, not looking sidelong into the picture window but concentrating self conciously straight ahead.
He had been doing this for about two hours, fifty-five trips around before he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.
I had been sitting on the other side of the picture window, drinking Budweiser and smoking Marlbros and looking out the picture window at the man driving by in the dark green 1964 International pick up truck. Waiting for him to park the goddam truck. And after he parked the truck, waiting for him to get his ass in the bar.
Register sat in his truck and lit a joint and smoked it slowly and thoughtfully. Taking deep hits and then sucking in the wisps that emanated from the lit end. When he was done he flung the fat roach out of the window and onto the parking lot. He stumbled out of the truck and into the bar.
I saw him approach the door from the picture window. He went to the far end of the bar, where there were no people and sat. I picked up my cigarettes and beer and joined him.
"So what's up?" I asked.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, "I got busy doing some errands and couldn't make it over on time. Sorry."
"It's no big deal, what'd you want to meet me for?"
"You want a bump?"
"Sure."
He handed me a baggie with about a half ounce of coke in it and his keys. I went into the bathroom and didn't take too much. He was testing me.
When I came back out and handed back the baggie he looked closely at it and put it back into his pocket.
"Come up to the office with me." he said.
I followed him out the back door, across the patio and into the out building that constituted the office. The owner of the bar was inside at his desk. Across the room from him was a very cowed looking young man on a couch. I recognized the guy as someone I had gone to middle school with.
Register looked at the owner and asked, "get anything out of him?"
The owner just shook his head.
Register looked at me for a second then he looked at the cowed young man, "I've got to be out of town for three days," he pointed at me, "you pay this man three hundred dollars today, three hundred dollars tomorrow, and three hundred dollars the day after tomorrow or he will kick your fucking ass." He said it very quietly and very pleasantly and the cowed young man on the couch began to cry.
He looked at me and said, "You pay," he pointed at the owner, "this man six hundred dollars by day after tomorrow or I will kick your ass." The cowed young man on the couch began to sob.
I nodded my head and Register and I walked back into the bar.
"You want a shot?"
"Sure thing man"
"You don't mind that I did that do you? That I put you on the spot like that?"
"No. Do I really have to shake this guy down? And pay up?"
"Hell yes you do."
"Can I have another bump?"
"Sure."
I did another. We sat in the near deserted bar and didn't talk for a while.
"Hey Register. How come you was riding around the block out there for two hours?"
"I was listening to my Allman Brothers tape. You know, I listen to those guys and I just get lost in the music and lose track of time."
"Two hours?"
"You want a shot?"
"Sure."
"Hey bartender, round of shots."
The bartender sauntered over. "What you want honey?"
Ken looked at me, "Cuervo." I said.
"Two Cuervos and Schnapps for everybody else."
"Can I have one too?" the bartender asked.
"I said everybody didn't I?"
"I's just making sure honey."
We did shots. Then we just sat not talking just drinking our drinks and smoking our cigarettes and looking toward the picture window.
He had been doing this for about two hours, fifty-five trips around before he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.
I had been sitting on the other side of the picture window, drinking Budweiser and smoking Marlbros and looking out the picture window at the man driving by in the dark green 1964 International pick up truck. Waiting for him to park the goddam truck. And after he parked the truck, waiting for him to get his ass in the bar.
Register sat in his truck and lit a joint and smoked it slowly and thoughtfully. Taking deep hits and then sucking in the wisps that emanated from the lit end. When he was done he flung the fat roach out of the window and onto the parking lot. He stumbled out of the truck and into the bar.
I saw him approach the door from the picture window. He went to the far end of the bar, where there were no people and sat. I picked up my cigarettes and beer and joined him.
"So what's up?" I asked.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, "I got busy doing some errands and couldn't make it over on time. Sorry."
"It's no big deal, what'd you want to meet me for?"
"You want a bump?"
"Sure."
He handed me a baggie with about a half ounce of coke in it and his keys. I went into the bathroom and didn't take too much. He was testing me.
When I came back out and handed back the baggie he looked closely at it and put it back into his pocket.
"Come up to the office with me." he said.
I followed him out the back door, across the patio and into the out building that constituted the office. The owner of the bar was inside at his desk. Across the room from him was a very cowed looking young man on a couch. I recognized the guy as someone I had gone to middle school with.
Register looked at the owner and asked, "get anything out of him?"
The owner just shook his head.
Register looked at me for a second then he looked at the cowed young man, "I've got to be out of town for three days," he pointed at me, "you pay this man three hundred dollars today, three hundred dollars tomorrow, and three hundred dollars the day after tomorrow or he will kick your fucking ass." He said it very quietly and very pleasantly and the cowed young man on the couch began to cry.
He looked at me and said, "You pay," he pointed at the owner, "this man six hundred dollars by day after tomorrow or I will kick your ass." The cowed young man on the couch began to sob.
I nodded my head and Register and I walked back into the bar.
"You want a shot?"
"Sure thing man"
"You don't mind that I did that do you? That I put you on the spot like that?"
"No. Do I really have to shake this guy down? And pay up?"
"Hell yes you do."
"Can I have another bump?"
"Sure."
I did another. We sat in the near deserted bar and didn't talk for a while.
"Hey Register. How come you was riding around the block out there for two hours?"
"I was listening to my Allman Brothers tape. You know, I listen to those guys and I just get lost in the music and lose track of time."
"Two hours?"
"You want a shot?"
"Sure."
"Hey bartender, round of shots."
The bartender sauntered over. "What you want honey?"
Ken looked at me, "Cuervo." I said.
"Two Cuervos and Schnapps for everybody else."
"Can I have one too?" the bartender asked.
"I said everybody didn't I?"
"I's just making sure honey."
We did shots. Then we just sat not talking just drinking our drinks and smoking our cigarettes and looking toward the picture window.
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