It's waaaaaaaaaaaay too late for me to be doing anything, never mind blogging, but I'm upset. It was announced today by the goddess herself that Exene Cervenka has multiple-sclerosis. I am devastated. It might not seem like a big deal to somebody who has maintained a life outside of punk-rock, but this is an incredible moment. Exene was not only the first female punk singer, she remains the archetype for any and every girl with the balls to front a band. It should also be pointed out that she is the ex-wife of one of our greatest living actors, Viggo Mortenson. They have a child together, Henry, who is now 21.

Cervenka and the legendary John Doe were planning an X reunion for the Sweet Relief Musicians Fund. Please give what you can, as I will. Any distasteful jokes/references will be met with boot-to-balls. No exceptions.

I wrote this yesterday, but didn't get the chance to post it. The moral of this story is that I hate unfit fuckface parents. Wear condoms.

This morning, as I tumbled out of bed and stumbled out of bedroom, I was greeted with a dozen talking heads lamenting the disappearance of a small child. Her name was Julia Rakoczy and she was 9 years old. Julia and her mother, Bonnie Sweeten, were rear-ended by two black men (of course) in mid-morning traffic and placed in the trunk of a Cadillac, according to a 911 call made by Ms. Sweeten.
Never mind the fact that anybody who spent more than 4 minutes plotting a kidnapping would think to confiscate the hostage’s cell-phone. I would imagine that’s the first thing you do. Never mind the fact that a fender-bender, like the one Ms. Sweeten described, would leave behind a mess of glass, metal and skid-marks that were nowhere to be found. Never mind the fact that a traffic accident occurring at an intersection in a wealthy Philadelphia suburb would be recorded on a number of security cameras.
Never mind the facts..... that’s what Bonnie Sweeten did. The dumb bitch created an incident that would legally require her daughter’s face to be plastered on every television screen in the country. With such publicity surrounding them, you’d think she would go underground. Maybe she would rent an RV under a fake name and hide out in Topeka or lay low in a roadside motel outside Biloxi. Wherever her next move took her, it would have to be to a place where they could be inconspicuous. Not a place full of police, people and cameras..... like Disney World. Definitely not Disney World.
But that’s where Bonnie Sweeten chose to disembark and, for that, I’m grateful. Now, a child is a little safer and a first-class jackass is staring prison in the face. I don’t care that she sent police on a wild-goose chase, not that police in the greater-Philadelphia area have nothing to do. I don’t care that she violated the sanctity of Disney World. Shit, that place is Club Med for pedophiles. Club Ped, if you will......
I do care, however, when a child’s welfare is put at risk by a fool’s logic. That bitch needs go away for awhile. A child should not have to go through life without her mother but something tells me she’s better off, in this case.

So Lonely.....

North Korea is testing us.

But that's all they can do..... test. Any person with a clear head knows that North Korea (Seriously?? You're not even all of Korea) cannot and will not fuck with us on the level of war. Obama is taking the best approach (the same he's taken with Iran), that of the high road. If we all decide to start measuring our dicks in terms of nukes, everyone will lose. That's how Reagan was able to end the Cold War. He convinced everybody he was crazy enough to whip it out.

Kim Jong-Il clearly wants to have a dick-measuring contest with Obama, but he's ill-advised. Come on, who do you think is gonna win that one..... the asian or the black guy?

In Less Than Surprising News....

OJ has asked for an appeal, declaring his trial to be "fundamentally unfair".

I agree with the Simpson defense. It's unfair for a guy who has only killed white people to be tried by an all-white jury.

Starting offffff on Joey's blog

Hello. My name is Conor Sullivan. I consider myself to be a man with a head on his shoulders. I have enormous shoulders. I’m not Dwight Howard, (shit.......... that guy’s shoulders make him a candidate for a real-life Atlas, should we ever need one) but the good lord made shoulders to support the head and I got a melon that Gallagher couldn’t crack.

Joey recruited me for this shit-show because he wanted me to take Asher Roth down a few pegs. Sorry to say, I can’t do it. I could accuse him of being a spoiled suburbanite shithead with hair like a Troll-doll and little regard for the history, but he already levied those same claims against himself in the opening song on his album. FUCK!!! Why can’t he just let me hate him?? Because, he’s a talented guy and he is, painfully enough, a breath of fresh air.

Rap is saturated with jackasses. 1/1000 of those jackasses are dudes who sold enough coke to afford studio-time and are looking for a more legitimate kind of fame. Why be the guy who’s famous for shooting that cop on West & Pleasant, when you can be famous for being the guy who sang “Swing Your Dookie-Hole”? By the same logic, the other 999 of those jackasses are just neighborhood knuckleheads with big-fish stories. For every rapper that actually profited off drugs, there’s a thousand Tony Montanas who probably would’ve gotten hung from the helicopter.

Take my friend and yours, Rick Ross. Recently outed as a former Miami-Dade County correctional officer, Ross has been selling millions of albums with tales of intercontinental drug-dealing since 2005. In his smash debut single “Hustling,” he claimed to have a personal relationship with Manuel Noriega. Nobody stopped to wonder if it involved him serving Manny 3 meals-a-day on a foam tray. The guy has made some incredible songs, full of even more incredible claims. While he isn’t the best rapper working today, he is a perfect example of today’s typical gangsta rapper.

A day in the life of a gangsta rapper is an action movie in itself. It starts with you waking up next to a curvy latina woman, petting a Siberian white tiger. You don’t remember, because you drank tons of expensive champagne, but you had sex with the exotic beauty last night. You're not sure if you fucked the tiger. It's possible, you love that tiger. As you roll out of bed and put your feet down, you cut the sole of your foot on the stack of bill-folds lying on the floor. Man, you got so much money. You walk to the kitchen and there’s another naked chick, this one’s black, pouring you a bowl of Dom Perignon and Cocoa Puffs. You don’t even want to eat that shit, you just wanted the visual. As you slap the bowl out her hand, the phone rings. It’s your man, Pablo. He informs you in broken english that your 25 kilos will arri... FUCK!

Rappers are full of shit, all of them. When Lil Wayne tells me that he just shot a man in his face, I don’t believe him. When Asher Roth says that he’s double-fisting red cups and making out with nickel-pieces,I believe him......... because he probably is.

Happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict
Those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war