K and G came over Saturday to see the studio. They were fairly impressed. They liked the layout and the bizzaro ambiance.
We ate hamburgers from Broad Street Burger which used to be What-a-burger. The recipe hasn't changed only the name. It's great to know if something works you keep doing it. The folks over there realize they have a winner and they don't need huge ads, clowns, or plastic toys to boost sales. I don't think they advertise in the local paper or on TV. I don't think I have ever seen a commercial for What-a-Burger. They don't have low-fat menus, a salad bar or cheesy playgrounds for kids. There are no ads about the nutritional value of the menu items. The product is 1950's hamburgers served quick and cheap.


A little while later we all decided to go to the Augusta Exchange Club Fair. This county fair has been around since the dawn of time. Not much changes here either. The Midway is filled with throngs of people, shouting gamers and delightful aromas.
We ate greasy corn dogs, French fries soaked in salt and washed it down with Coca Cola. It was wonderful. They had the Hymalyan, the Ferris wheel , the Haunted House and a giant blow up slide shaped like the Titanic.

We went to the "Freak Show". It was a bunch of animals that had various birth defects. There was the Five Legged Cow, the Punk rock Rooster and the Four Horned Goat. There was a throwback to the "real" freak shows of long ago- they had two fold-out signs full of pictures. The Bearded Lady, the Siamese Twins, and Ape Man were there in their faded glory.
I remember meeting "Dog Boy" at the Fair. I got him to sign a picture of himself and I have since lost it. His name was Bill Cole and he impressed me because he wasn't mean or bitter. He was making the best out the hand fate dealt him. He was working and not sitting around waiting for a government check. I guess the Politically Correct crowd ended gigs for people like him. Who are these people who have nothing better to do than wring their hands over circus sideshows and such? I guess they're the same folks who join PETA and stand up for lobster and cockroaches.

I have to comment on one more thing- We all were appalled at the number of Irish travelers at the Fair. If you don't know about the "Gypsys" or travelers- they live in an enclave outside of Belvedere, SC. They are known as con men, thieves and liars. The group's main income is from the home repair rip-offs they perpetrate on the East Coast.
One of the major netwoks has done a segment about them and their con. The men work in pairs and prey on the elderly. They go to a house and while one occupies the owner the other slips into another room and sprays a spot on the ceiling with water. The first guy brings the victim back to the other guy and says "Look like your roof is leaking". The unsuspecting victim will usually shell out big bucks for unnecessary repairs.

The most disturbing thing last night was the number of Gypsy women there. They all looked virtually alike- tight jeans plastered on a non-existent ass, long curly hair, enough make-up for six women, high cheek bones, scrunched up features from years of in-breeding and the obligatory pumps with stiletto heels. This uniform is a requirement because all the females from age 4-60 wore some variation of this. The most troubling part of this is there were little Jon-Benet type girls trailing around with these people.

This is a strange bunch of folk who pride themselves on clannishness and separation from the rest of the world.

Tha's all for now, I am off to shoot Rhinos!

We finally sold the house in Athens and I am relieved that the albatross is gone for good. I loved that place-my kids grew up there and we had a great run. But in the end it was too much-with the monthly payments and the mortgage company. Wells Fargo sucks ass-we didn't even choose them for our mortgage. We went with another company which was bought out in the Great Real Estate Race. Some choice- this company is the worst for resolving problems and being consumer friendly. Their so-called customer service is a Politburo-type maze that leads to frustration after frustration.

Our new kitten is finally getting over the worms and resulting Flaming Puckered A-hole. She is still shitting dead worms and will be for a while. This reminds me - I plan to make a Kitty Litter Cake for Miss Moose's Halloween party. The cake looks like what's in the cat box but is totally edible. It is served in a real cat litter box.

I just got an offer to drink some Yeungling Beer so it'll be short tonight.

See ya!

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was great! It had blood, guts, gore, humor, sex, and everything a great horror movie should have. It churned my stomach and made me queasy and made me nervous. There are some genuine scary moments too. I finally went to a horror movie that made me jump in my seat. Haven't done that since 1978's Halloween.
Jennifer Biel is hot! She's over eighteen right? I thanked God that the director found the right times to wet her skimpy tee shirt down! And the chase scenes- she jiggled and jiggled and didn't take her clothes off once! It was perfect.
I see in the credits that Tobe Hooper had his hand in this and I am glad. This needed the master's touch. They really didn't advance the story but that is not necessary. We just the love the telling of the tale. This is the Grandaddy of all Urban Legends. Thankfully there was no attempt to "modernize" the story and make it happen in the present. It was 1973 and these kids in the van were off to a Skynyrd concert. There was dope smoking, titty groping and high hoping that Jen Biel fell out of the tee shirt.
Go see The Texas Chainsaw Massacre It's worth it!

It's getting close to my birthday and I am glad to be here. We plan to see The Texas Chainsaw Massacre at the midnight show. I've read a few reviews and some critics don't like it much. I don't care.
I am going to see Jennifer Beale get chased around in that tight halter. I hope she's over eighteen because I have been waiting a long time for this. She is over eighteen right?

I feel like Quagmire sometimes. This reminds me of The Family Guy episode where Meg goes out for cheerleading but ends up as a drum majorette instead. She is invited to a slumber party with the "cool" kids and they have plans to humiliate her.

Quagmire knocks on the front door of the teenage host's house.
She answers and he says: "Hello, how old are you? Eighteen??
She says "Sixteen"
Quagmire : "Close enough!"
She yells: "MOM!"
Quagmire : "I like where this is going!"

I have decided to change my name. I would like to be known as Craven Moorehead. Thank you.

I'll blog a review of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre soon.

"Look what your brother did to the door!" -Dad to Leatherface. TTCM

Here's a Geiner for ya! Why don't people like to play cards with Ed Gein?
Because he might come up with a good hand!

Why did Ed Gein like to keep his heat turned up in the house?
To keep the furniture from getting goosebumps!

If I knew where to send this letter to Rush Limbaugh I would do it.

Dear Rush,
I am not one of your fans. In fact, I think you preach some pretty mean hearted stuff and I don't support you. You've apparently been pretty hard on some folks in the past and now things are a lot upside down for you. I hate it for you.

It seems to me that you and most of your listeners believe that all drugs and all addicts are bad. Well, not all drugs.Certainly there maybe a few of your country club buddies who can't seem to stop drinking and you might know a few who have been in treatment. So booze is okay even though it's very addictive and has ruined more than a few lives.
You probably know some people in your social circle who have used cocaine. It's even been said that the current President Bush has been known to do a line or two. So cocaine might not be a bad drug if the right people use it.

I have listened to your program more than a few times and I get the impression that the only addicts you have a problem with are poor, non-white and use Bad drugs. What are Bad drugs? There are no bad drugs. There are just people like you who are still clinging to the illusion that such things exist.

You have much in common with those whom you said should be jailed for using. You are addict just like Bill T, Tim G, Truman D, and Wayne P. I wonder if you should go to jail for what you did? Maybe so and not one of those posh resort jails for white collar guys. No, you should go to a hellhole with too many inmates, not enough staff and too many germs floating around.

I am sure you'll buy your way into a place like Betty Ford or Hazelden. A place where you have access to the best treatment available and there are no thugs to endanger you.
It's really all about access, isn't it? If you can pony up the dough- you go to place where the best treatment is available. If not ,you go to county lock up where you may face serious prison time and if you are lucky there will be a half-assed treatment program available.

I really hope you kick this thing. It's rough and unpleasant. Sobriety sucks! Just ask an addict. If something good can come of your plight, I hope that this will put a white face on addiction;a face that almost everyone can relate to.
Maybe you can help wake up the sleeping masses who still think that addiction is someone else's problem.

What is this stomach bug going around? I have had cramps, headache, and general malaise for about a week now. I stayed home most of the weekend and slept. We did brave the drizzle ((brave the drizzle???? what?) to go to a few yard sales. I must be sick I paid way too much for some warped 78's and they weren't even Paramounts or anything! I did buy a way cool mushroom shaped foot stool for the studio.

I spent part of Saturday at JW's house playing guitar and singing. I did feel somewhat better but not great. After that I came home and watched the Bulldogs slaughter the Tenn Vols. That was some ass whuppin'. I loved it.

I slept most of today and just now got up. I plan to watch the Sopranos and Carnivale tonight.

I tried to get together a collage using the warped 78's, pictures of Willie McTell's grave and some posters but I just didn't have the spark.

I tried to practice a little guitar and that fell flat too.

I think it might be stress- the verdict came back for my workmate with pancreactic cancer. It's the TIGER!- a big, ugly, hungry mofo with a nasty disposition. The cancer is in the pancreas and liver. It is not operable. It's just a matter of time before the curtain falls.
The way I feel you'd think it was me with the news. Right now, I am healthy as a horse and don't have any reason to be so fearful. I feel helpless of course because there ain't no changing the verdict. It ain't fair, but nothing in this place is.
This fear comes from the fact that somewhere out there in the vastness of time and space, I have got an appointment that I can't miss. I can't be early and I won't be late. It 'll come at a prescribed time and in a certain manner. That's a fact Jack!
I guess we all go along doing the daily bullshit dance to keep our minds distracted from this certainty. The bullshit dance becomes THE THING, the only thing that matters. Bills, work, mortgage companies, wars in Iraq, the economy, Rush Limbo's pill problem, politics, and all them other distractions mean nothing to me. I've got my own row to hoe. It's time to focus and keep my eyes on the prize. All that other shit is just noise. The fact is I've got an appointment and a long way to go before I sleep.


I'm stark naked but I don't care
I'm going off in the woods
I'm hunting bear. -bob dylan

Yesterday at work, I swear I heard Disco Diva's voice. She was talking to CF, my supervisor. I went out in the hall and looked up and down. No Diva. Later I found out it was Peaches in for a chat. That's what we call an illusion in my line of work-it's a misperception of reality. I'm glad to know I have illusions.

I am pissed off at PETA (again!). I think that fax they sent to Roy Horn's hospital room was in poor taste at least. Here's what I said in my e-mail to them:

Your fax to a badly injured performer was crass, unkind and down right mean spirited. Would you say something similar to a female rape victim? Maybe women who dress provocatively deserve to be assaulted?
PETA is run by bored douchebags who don't have a life. Your collective warped mind set is sickening to say the least. Get the fuck out of the Ivory Tower and get a life! There are more important issues in the world than shutting down a circus or trying to save lobsters from becoming entrees.
At home enjoying a nice thick ribeye,
Bill Scoggins

How 'bout them er? uh... hoglights!

I just found out that email address is not valid. I got the email back. Maybe they realize the indefensibility of their position and have retreated? Nah... fuckin' babies!

I am forming my own animal rights group-it's called peta (pronounced pet-a, short e please!) It stands for People Eating Tasty Animals Ted Nugent is our chef and our maitre-de is Sidney Greenstreet ( rotund actor who played in Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon).



I am off to shoot Rhinos-G'day!

I exercised my God-given right to shoot the hell out of targets and make as much noise as I can. We went out Sunday to a firing range near Plant Voglte in Georgia. My progeny and I shot an Argentinean-made Mauser .30-.06, a Bennelli 12 gauge, a Colt Python .357, a Glock 9, and a Remington 12 gauge.

Hannah shot all the guns except for the Remington but was partial to the Python. She managed the kick very well with the .357 and the .38 rounds. She even took the Bennelli well but the Mauser was a little much. It is a military weapon so it has no padding on the shoulder rest. Hannah is 14 BTW and had never seen a gun except for my 30-30 Marlin. This was her first shoot and I am pretty sure it won't be her last.

Dylan did well with all the guns but is partial to the Python and the Bennelli. He murdered a Coke can and several boxes before surrendering his weapon at the end of the shoot.

I really liked the Mauser even though it was a little hard on my shoulder. The Bennelli is a terrific weapon-it lays out a compact scatter that was murder on a box. The Glock was easy to handle and had a compact feel to it. It's good to know that there is still a place for men and women to get together and blast targets into smithereens!

I did something Saturday that was not masculine. I bought Hannah a large collection of Barbie dolls and accessories from the 1960' and '70's. I went to yard sale and the woman had Barbie furniture from the '70's still in the box! There were 10 or 12 figures, a car, and a ton of Barbie clothes. I got a whole big box of stuff for $16.00!
My testosterone level bottomed out when I got home and actually started going through the stuff. There were cheesy clothes from the '70's, all kinds of accessories and even the Afghan Hound that Barbie had! Mrs. Willie looked at me and said "You're enjoying this too much". I just can't help it -it reminds me of when I was a little girl!

My testosterone level got back to normal after Saturday's Ga/Alabama game and the shooting range on Sunday. I feel manly enough to open a jar, change the oil in my car or not ask for directions when lost.
Roger Wilco! 10-4 and out!

The Arms Dealer or my case for Gun Control- I had some rough years as a teenager growing in Hellhole, Ga amongst racists, retards and gun nuts. It was the 1970's and the South was a place removed from the world. It was a time when some people kept their inbred relatives at home in the attic: a Boo Raddley moment of Southern Gothic decay; a time of fear and more fear.
I met the Arms Dealer when I was 14 years old and he already had rep as a bully. I was intimidated by him as were all of my friends. Me and the Army Brat started hanging with him for the same reason, you didn't want the Arms Dealer on your bad side.
He was convinced that there would be a large scale race war in the near future. He was also convinced that the best way to deal with it was to be armed to the teeth. The world had one saving grace at that point in time, The Arms Dealer was only fifteen years old.
I spent too much time listening to this crap and soon found myself caught up in the moment. Racism and fear were everywhere in the 1970's. At home we got it and at school we got it.
I hung with him until 1976 when he broke into my house, stole my father's pistol and some silver coins. My father and I went to his house and confronted him. Of course, he lied and lied some more. He finally got a wiff of the truth when we threatened to go to the police. We got the pistol back and less than half the coins. It seems the brainchild cashed the coins in at the neighborhood pool hall and treated his other asshole buddies to a few games.
A few months later, the Arms Dealer and one of his cronies got busted big time. They broke in a gun shop and stole shotguns, rifles and ammo. When I heard this I knew he was still planning for this race war. They were looking at some serious time. His parents talked the police out of pressing charges and they decided to get him psychiatric help. His well intended but lousy family decided the best way to treat this is Outdoor Therapy. His parents had to pay like $1200 per month for psychiatric treatment at a camp in Atlanta. It was a King's Ransom in those days.
I knew they had wasted their money when Army Brat and I went to see him about eight months later. All he did was brag how he stole switchblades during an outing to Mexico.
What has all this got to do with right now? It seems Arms Dealer has made contact with my brother and is looking to connect with me. It won't happen in a million years. The most disturbing part of this is that Arms Dealer let my brother come over to his house to see his massive arsenal. He's way over legal now and has amassed quite a collection of guns, ammo and whatever. It scares the shit outta me that someone who is this paranoid and unstable is allowed to have guns. Not only to have one gun but all kinds of weaponry. I hope his NRA membership is up to date!

Who is surprised that Rush Limbaugh is a HYPOCRITE! ?That's a damn no brainer. It's like being surprised that Bill Clinton or Jesse Jackson both have big appetites for SEX!
It's like being disappointed that your Cracker Jack toy is a cheap, plastic, piece of shit that breaks five minutes after you play with it. It's like being stunned when you get a hellacious hangover from drinking MD 20-20. Come on people, there are just certain things that are almost truisms and this is one.
Repeat after me- Rush Limbaugh is a deaf-assed, Oxycotin chompin' pig and I pledge to never support him any more.
Further more kids, Don't follow leaders and watch the parkin' meters!
What is it about this guy that people like? I have tried to listen to him more than once and he is boring. He's got a broken record schtick that sounds like Clinton started World War II, Clinton invented toxic waste, pollution and government redtape. Clinton did this, Clinton did that, he invented adultery, sexual harassment and fondling women. If you listen to Rush long enough, Clinton and the Democrats are responsible for every social ill in this country and it is incumbent on every right-thinking American (Republican) to clean up this mess.
That's enough political fuckedupness. Here's some more from the World of Work or "Hididdley Ho, Slaverarinos!"

I work in a public mental health facility in SC and at times , it reminds me of the Star Wars Universe. In my previous posts, I talked about Jabba the Hut, a walking, talking, large mass of dysfunction.
From the good side of the Force, there is Obi Wan Kenobi, a kindly but sometimes gruff old goat of a psychiatrist. Obi Wan seems to have a slight case of Altzheimer's, but he's a good soul who is generally benign.
Then there's Chewbacca, a large man who is partially deaf. Chewy is a great fellow but goddamn, you can't understand but every third word! Talking with Chewy is like trying to get directions from a Scotsman- you wonder why you bothered in the first place!

Work has always fascinated and repulsed me at the same time. My experience has been that I go to some place and work for 8 hours with people that I normally wouldn't give the time of day to. Not all, mind you , because there's always that clique of "workmates" that I click with. They are usually the subversives, the troublemakers and the outcasts. My workmates never buy into the buzzwords and the latest management crappola.
I got in a little hot water once at my old job. This was when "continuous Improvement" was the management mantra. All these management fucks were going around the hospital having pep rallies for CI. CI was IT, the biggest and Brightest thing since the birth of Christ! Come one Come all! Get on the CI Bandwagon!
Only problem was that CI didn't sound like anything but a fucking rehash of some other Management mantra. The first time I heard about it it was called "Improved Customer Service" or something. At that time, my department spent a whole fucking Saturday in this turd of a meeting. We going to be the first department in the hospital to become Stepford Employees. Yee Haaa! Everyone else would follow and we would all be happy little robots spewing out the Customer Service mantra! Nobody else went. We were the only department who had to waste their time off in these meetings.
When CI came out, I wouldn't have it! I refused to become a Stepford Employee. I even made up a little song for all the CI devotees. It was sung to the tune of the old GI Joe ad- " C.I. Joes! C.I. Joes! Improving Man from head to toe!" The VP of Toiletries was not amused. Neither were my supervisors but I laugh about it to this day! Ha! Ha!
I'll sign off with TC's favorite quote "Think outside the box"

Disco Diva has been gone from our midst for only two days and boy, do I miss her. I swear to God, next time my aim will be better! Lunch time just ain't the same without her. I miss her cackling, her leg spasms, her Tourette's Syndrome when she screams "Nasty Ass Mutherfucker!" Seriously, she is none of these. She is photogenic, razor wit, Disco Diva!

Miss Moose is getting a job in a jizz bank. Nothing to do with actual jizz or its collection. She will be an egg coordinator person. That means when women want to donated their eggs (cluck!cluck!), Miss Moose will interview them and determine if they are good candidates. What makes a good egg donor? I dunno.

I had a friend who was in the jizz business. He worked night shift at the porn theatre cleaning up between shows. Jizz Mopper-that's what they called him.

Peaches and Papa Smurf are in the Caribbean on a cruise. I guess it's the same one the Mismatched cruise went on last week. The Mismatched cruise was these four chicks from work who booked a cruise together. There was Jabba the Hut (she posts on those BBW sites), Space Cadet (loopy, but likeable), Beauty Queen (a perfect waste of good pussy), and StopWatch ( she plans her bathroom breaks). Beauty Queen is gorgeous, simply stunning, but there is nothing behind the smile. Complete dead space. It's too much to bear.

It seems Jabba and Beauty Queen went swimming with the dolphins. These poor mammals (the dolphins) had to pull Jabba through the water and worse yet, they had to push her too. Where's that damn PETA when you need them?
Rumor has it that Beauty Queen wouldn't let anybody take her picture when she wore a swimsuit. Blame that on useless Fundamentalism! It seems her father is a Fundamentalist preacher or something. It should be against the law for rabid religious types to screw a kid up like that. I always heard the Preacher's kids were the wildest of them all.
I went to a Baptist run school from first to fourth grade . It was strict fundamentalist crappola dealt out on a daily basis.
My "girlfriend" in third grade was a preacher's daughter and she was wild ! Believe it or not, she used to get me to sit on the back seat of the bus with her and she 'd ask if I wanted to see her pussy. I wouldn't do it because I was scared we'd get caught. She'd make plans for me to come to her house to do God knows what. I never did, but I said I would. Really didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
This went on the entire Third grade. Sandy and I would sit on one side of the bus and her friend Rose and her "boyfriend", Ricky would sit on the other. Rose and Ricky would sit there and feel each other up.

Once, I dropped my pencil on the floor and Sandy pushed my head up her dress! I thought God Himself was coming down to spread wrath on my little ass!

Fundamentalism should come with a large warning: Beware! This bullshit can warp your mind. Not recommended for children under 18 years of age, the elderly or those capable of independent thought.

Good night Irene!