I ain’t ready to die yet.

The Clippers beat the Milwaukee bucks last night at Staples Center. It’s interesting isn’t it that the Lakers & the Clippers play at the same arena. Isn’t it just so damn interesting that you suddenly have to go the bathroom and think about it? So the Clippers are something like 19 and 35 and 17 games back but they’re coming back all the way back to Babylon with Uncle Sam and Grandfather Pedro bringing up the reservcs.

Chemical Brothers make really Brandon Paul styles, but the extreme opposite. Los Brodros en espanol. I coulda gone to that show in H-town years ago but ya know, things just sort of occurred that made it non pheasible but in a very positive and pondersa style dillio. They actually had a song on one of the NOW this is music! Cd’s but don’t ask me which one & it was the version sold in Mexico and totally different from the US version. Isn’t that just the most fascinating thing you ever heard in your lifetime and that of an uncloaked primate on the branch of enlightenment? Nod your head yes, and we’ll be able to move on.

It is extremely interesting to know about the series of novels called the Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan because it is bomb diggety. I mean, damn it looks like the main dude is the dragon reborn again on the endless psycle that is our cosmos.

Another thing that will captivate you for approximately 82 thousand astro-medallions of intertwining though patterns is the fact the Thing from Fantastic Four (not the furious five) had the tragedy of not being able to turn back into Ben Grimm. He couldn’t even bone Alicia the blind sculptor daughter of the puppet master, but then it had to get thrown in his face that his buddy the human torch started going out with her and there they are a-bonin’ right there in her apartment, and the Thing, he goes nuts on Johnny storm until Alicia stops him. It is insanely deep and interesting. And the time that the Thing was the only one to stay behind on the Secret War planet and learned that he could have changed back to Ben Grimm all along, he’d just built up a mental block about it all because of that chick I’m pretty sure. And now he was over her and over the block. But his Ben Grimm side split apart into its own separate entity and turned super evil, like his evil side, and he was stuck as the Thing again cuz he had to kill himself (his human self) before he escaped back to Earth.

If you were not enthralled with that to the tune of 85 tuba smacks then I just don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you are just not down with the most intensely and painfully most incredibly I can’t think of another word to describe interested. So there you have it. It must be on that next level or other level as bushwick bill would say.

just how fuckin offensive do I have to get before I get ridiculous hate filled comments and/or e-mail like orby? Damn I’m jealous. Maybe I should start writing all my evil and controversial feelings about ghetto dwarves.

I wanna drink so much Dr. Pepper that my esophagus comes out of my belly button and declares an armistice breakdown. Then I want to put it in a triple suplex and body slam its ass down the stairs of Haas Pavilion while Joe Shipp goes in for the jam.

The only thing more fuckin stupid then that deodorant commercial with Method Man and Redman with the tour de france bicycle riding dudes is the viagra commercial with the black dude walking around his office with this stupid fukn look on his face and everybody’s like “hey tom, um, so did you change your hair” or “hey tom, shave that mustache?” and he’s like “no” and he’s all smiling just cuz his old craggly dick works again. I mean, ok, I’m still fairly young and maybe innocent but is it that fukn rare for a penis to operate that the whole office is abuzz? I’d like to find a fukn nuclear bomb from Saddam’s backyard and drop it on that smug bastard.

OK, we get the point. Michael Jordan is 40 years old, yeah he’s an inspiration, yeah great, yeah he plays basketball against his younger self in that Gatorade commercial, ok, fuck sports illustrated can’t you think of something more interesting to put on your cover then the latest MJ slurp fest? Yes, he’s the best player of all time (although the way kobe’s been playing…) and he deserves all the accolades, etcetera, but enough is enough, jesus h. Christ, ok, it’s getting uncomfortable, already. Give him a fukn trophy and shut the fuck up.

Michael Jackson is just SO misunderstood. I mean, fuck, get one fukn little nose-job, and people are talking like you’re the fukn elephant man.

I really really hope that Gary Coleman gets laid someday, but I’m not holding my breath. Especially after seeing what a little whiner he is on that celebrity blind date show. No game whatsoever. C’mon Gary, watch Swingers a couple times and listen to some Leykis and recalibrate that mentality. Unless your gay, (and in which case I say jump into that if you are, fuck, life’s short) it’s time to get you some, and trust me, there’s gotta be ways to milk that fame shit even if you were the whutchyoutalkin about kid.

Attention: In ‘n out burger. What the fuck do I have to do for you to open up a fukn hamburger joint out here? Fuck throw a dog a bone already, you guys would RAKE in the cash, trust me.

And finally, about the chances of Joe Millionaire actually staying with Zora? Um, yeah. Can I get a “yeah right?” no fukn chance in HELL. Fukn E-Channel news and Entertainment tonite are like “well, here’s a romance” or whatever. Gimme a fukn break. He went for the lesser of two evils, shaking off the golddigging hobag and at the same time looking like the guy who “cares” to all the airheads of America who will be stalking the streets of suburbia looking for his ass in their Honda civics. This guy is going to hunt down and conquer all the high profile trim available in the seven continents during his 15 minutes plus 7 for ratings hijinx, and then go hit up the Arctic for some of that Icelandic shit. If you don’t believe me then check the files, beyatch!

Ah shite in a shitehole. Now THAT’s what I call a weekend, gus. THAT was fukn weekend material, not like some of those other pussy ass milk-shake dunking freak fakas that they try to pump down our fukn throats like vanilla coke. Naw loc, that was the real deal. Three days of serious funkenstein doctorials. If I had to pick one word to categorize it but at the same time grant it all the freedom to develop and unfetter its wings that I know it deserves the word would be TRUE.

Gyeah that’s the ticket, that’s the bombudd, that’s the good shit. Farken arken with Johnny Starken.

I was up real late last night remembering my first dog Lindsey. We found her in the mountains when I was like 2 years old and named her after one of the little towns on the way back to la la land. The mellowest jello-est black lab that you never seen. Grew up with that dog, dawg. We was brothas from anotha motha and it was like butter on toast when we were up in the scene. Props to the downest pooch that ever kicked it on four legs and a tail. Chillin in the doghouse with a case o’ cognac and a fifty dollar sack a milkbones.

Valentine’s dinner was the bambucha. I had the veal. And no, frankly, I didn’t feel guilty, but yes I did think about those innocent baby calves hunkered down in their feeding pens, suckling hoses of fatty nutrition and barely moving a leg. But ya know, I think my veal calf was the one happy calf that died of heart failure despite the fact that it got to be let out in the world and frollick and play. My veal calf was lazy and died of natural causes associated with an unhealthy lifestyle of little or no exercise and eating mars bars and hersheys kisses. Yes all the other veal-eaters are heartless bastards for eating the innocent chillskiers but I am happy in my knowledge of a happy little cow that was put in with the others to send out to the restaurants of America because his pappy would have wanted it that way. Oh and the rice milanesa was the SHIZNIT.

Drove up Waianae way on Sunday and kicked it like a funky chicken. Kaena point was a straight panic dawg. Like a fukn dumbass left the lights on but luckily some cool ass Bombay bombers jumped us and we were on our way like George Clinton to the spaceship. The end of the road is a rough place to run low on proton torpedoes but we made due. oh and the water was a little chilly but very refreshing thank you!

Waikiki was the name of our game yesterday. That and windward mall for some crawlage. Not at the feet of the master, FUCK that, but to find fish for a very serious science experiment. See we’re going to see if the average water speed of an unladen goldfish carrying a coconut is comparable to that of a swallow while in airborne state. It’s a vital experiment backed by the dental board of Guam for use in their studies of Chamorro tendencies to eat stinkweed.

Ok, I made that last part up. Not the whole paragraph, just the last sentence. Every other word in this whole thing is totally and completely undeniable. Except in the literal sense. You see, it’s a metaphor. For, um, karma. Yeah that’s it. If you don’t send me a jar of peanut butter, your karma’s through the floor and might be bustin’ your water heater beyatch, so call up Mr. Postman and not for your fukn letter, for my fukn scrilla punk.