By the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong

Masturbation is like the back end of the pantry. The dry goods, the ramen noodles, the macaroni and cheese the things one eats when one has exhausted all the meat,vegetables, and main staples. Sure it does the job. It satifies the urge of hunger and it is realtively cheap and easy to make. But still when one has only ate ramen for a prolonged period of time you begin to yearn. Yearn for something better. For some steak godamnit, or some kind of better nutrition.

Hilarity

The figure across the street looked weak, emaciated, and seeming to have trouble walking as it lumbered slowly down the street. Frank watched it as he pumped gas into his semi, it looked like a man but there was something amiss. The way it walked suggested a drunk, perhaps a derelict on a bender yet that also defied logic. The truck stop was in the middle of a rural area and the nearest town had to be at least a mile away. Frank had taken the first exit he could see for gas as he had been driving for 17 hours straight. It was quite possible that his eyes were playing tricks on him or there was some kind of feasiable explanation for a man walking on a rural road at two in the morning. The figure moved closer by now about 30 feet away down the street plodding towards the truck stop slowly and methodically. It had been unusually hot the past few days and Frank could feel sweat gathering upon his brow as he finsihed pumping. Something was wrong here, something told him he did not want to find out exactly what the man's purpose was at this late hour. Frank sensed strongly the need to get out of there and back on the road. There was an eerie silence which rapt the air with only the buzzing of myriad insect filling the night air. Frank walked up to the gas pump and slid his card. He pressed the button selecting his method of payment and waited as the machine processed it. The man had crossed the road by now and Frank could see him more clearly as he entered the streetlight. The eyes had a glazed over look and he could see also the open wounds which dominated his face. His flesh seemed to be peeling off by the minute as he slowly walked toward the gas station. He looked like the walking dead. Fank watched as his card finally processed and quickly got back into his truck. Frank quickly gunned the engine as the creature was now closing in on his truck. He could hear it emit a low groaning sound which sent a chill down his spine. Whatever that thing was he knew it wasn't human and he didn't want to find out what. As he drove off he heard a thud against the passenger door. The creature lunged at his veichle but not quite fast enough. Frank looked into his rearview mirror and saw it continue toward the gas station. Something fuckin strange in his town, he thought as he heading toward the highway.

The truth finds its way up through the sands of deception

Why is everyone so down on sluts? What harm have they ever done? Besides of course the ouccasional std or unwanted pregnancy they bring joy to countless individuals. What wrong with wanting to spread around some love? Not that sex and love are interchangeable but still. And no girl will ever ever admit to being a slut. The charge will almost unvariably be wholly denied. I would love to just see a girl just say yes! I am a slut. And I wholly own up to my whorish behavoir and will continue in such a hilarious manner. By golly whats wrong with that? And of course there is the whole over side of it, where a dude would never deny banging alot of chicks. In fact its complely opposite where a mans whole measure of himself and who he is seems hinged upon his sucess with the opposite sex. If there were a term for a male slut surely no male would deny such charges. I mean what is so wrong with enjoying the act of sex? For godsake its a beautiful thing and of course its natural that some people would enjoy it frequently. I wish I could just change all the rules of the game. I feel as a male, the females have all the cards. They are the coveted ones the ones sought after and I am expected to be the pursuer. Why am I not similiarly coveted? I feel I have enough redeeming qualities to merit such lust.

Get ready you mutha, for the big payback

So I had a weird encounter with a bus driver which totally threw my day out of whack. I was getting on and I did not realize I had left my bus pass with my other pants, so I put thirty cents in the fare box before acknowledging that I didn't have enough. The bus driver look at me angrily obviously pissed off by my lack of funds and I said that I saw the bus drivers usually let people through to which he countered, 'you put in thirty cents and you expect me to let you on. Just tell me your short next time.' Eventually another passenger lent me a dollar to put into the fare. So most people would assume this ugly encounter was over right? That the feelings of animus and rage between our two parties would have subsided? That assumption would prove to be incorrect. As I pressed the button for my stop which clearly rang and was audible I was than let off a good three blocks from my stop well past the stop light. Clearly passive/agressive bullshit on the part of the driver. I can understand from a certain vantage point as someone who deals with people daily and has to deal with the bullshit but on the other hand it pissed me the fuck off. It was so obvious, so intentionally designed to obtain some kind of 'revenge' on someone who did something that is done all the time. Maybe I am wrong slightly, maybe there was just reason for his umbrage. Certainly a proportion of the bus fares go to the bus drivers salary, and maybe he had had a long day of non-fare payers before me which is certainly commonplace.

I'm pickin up good vibrations

So its been awhile since I rapped on this thing. And few things have changed but still some things stay the same. I think I would be a good raiseing children in 1902. I remember reading that back then people were more stoic and less emotive and the concept of childhood had not yet fully evolved. Children were thought of as little adults and dressed and expected to act as such. I think for me the number one thing that would piss me off about raiseing kids would be the constant shout and loudness and strange irrationtal behavoir. Also I was pondering about life in the 1850s. The impetus for this thought came as I saw a notice that the power was going to be cut off in our apartment for a few hours in the morning because of some kind of surge. I knew that certain people had calling cards which specified the times in which someone could call on another person. I coulden't help but wondering if someone came in and just popped in at someones house would it be acceptable. What would be the standards for social conduct in an era without means of notifying someone beforehand?

One man show

I'm a one man show no one else on my team/ no copilot in the next seat no one else on the scene/ staring deep in the dark isolated from the rest/ got no one holding me up through this grand long contest/ I detest so many things and the evils they bring/ sad souls looking down upon this world that we inhabit/ follies coming all around both comical and tragic/ trying hard hoping somehow to break the bad habits/ without the aid of witchcraft or black magic/ to just have it and let loose for a few/ feeling like an island with a one man crew

You best watch yourself were wanted men I have the death sentence on tweleve systems!

I just finished reading the book Murder Machine by Gary Capeci and Gene Mustain. It chronicles the rise and fall of the crew of Roy DeMeo a capo in the Gambino Crime family. The Roy Demeo Crew was believed to have been responisable for over 100 murders in the New York area. The crews method of dispatchment was quick and effective. After shooting the victim in the head another member of the crew would stab the victim in the heart the stop the blood flow. After this they would usually wait for a while for the blood to congeal before they proceeded. On one ouccasion they ordered out for pizza and hot dogs while they waited. After the blood had congealed they would dismember the body peice by peice and package it in plastic bags and drop it in a nearby dump. This book read really well for me and had a good narrative which kept me reading. Another thing I found interesting was how some of Roy Demeo's fellow colleagues became disgusted with his brutal methods of dispatchment. After a member of Roy's crew Chris Rosenberg ends up making a deal with some Cubans from Florida for Cocaine and bring them up to New York to make the deal. Instead of giving them the money Chris ends up murdering all of the Cuban representatives and taking the cocaine. As a result of Chris's indisrection the Cuban who has contacts in the Columbian drug cartel sends up some muscle to New York to sort out the situation. Roy Demeo's handler in the Gambino Family Nino Gaggi sends his nephew Dominick Montiglio to sort things out with the Cuban's. As a result of his paranoia Roy ends up killing a young vacuum cleaner salesman who was sitting outside his house making his rounds. In the end he winds up getting killed because the Gambino heirarchy beleives he would testify against him, overall a great read.