Well, I didn't get called into work today, so I had a day off. My friend Debra helped me with my laundry difficulties (you don't want to know) and I would love if you went and played this Anti-Bush game.
Went and drank tequila tonight and I need to sleep. Am posting because I am such a fucking trooper. Okay . . . Yu-Gi-Oh! Pyramid Of Light is about some kids running around, stopping the end of the world through a childrens card game. I might as well be watching Oprah Winfrey. But my kid wants to see the Yu-Gi-Oh!, so we see it. It's about what you'd imagine a childrens half hour cartoon looks like dragged out over one and a half hours. There were some adult references to red and white wine spritzers in the first half of the flick, as the creator of the Yu-Gi-Oh card game, Pegasus, reminised on the more publicized gaffes in his colourful past, and spoke of his previous excesses with little if no remorse in his bright red cartoon heart.

And vengeance strikes!
Goodnight.

Hi world. Boy, it's been one hell of a week, hasn't it?
But we all made it through and that's the importaint thing
right? I mean tomorrow's Monday and, oh, here we go again .
. . oh shit. But, lest you forget, Monday means more
Aquanaut songs, right!?! How bad can it be with new tunes to
listen to at work and all?
Can anyone tell I feel fucking great right now? I mean I
FEEL GREAT! I am even using capital letters with willful
abandon. Look out! Today I went and spent a very enjoyable
afternoon with my son, George. We got some stuff done, his
glasses were stepped on by some kid after they fell off his
face at school, so they needed to be fixed, and he needed a
notebook for his daily journal entry at school. He wanted
this Family Guy folder but we got the more durable five-star
which proved to be futile when we got him home, as his mother
then informed us the teacher had specified the notebook must be non-
spiral. Anyway, we got the worthless notebook at Target and
stocked up on candy for the movie we then went to seek
tickets for, Yu-Gi-Oh! Pyramid Of Light!



Now Yu-Gi-Oh! movie tickets are hot property in fourth grade. Kids are trading teeth they'd normaly give to the tooth fairy for 'em. They're spraypainting other kids bikes black and hawking them to the mexicans by the train tracks to get these fucking tickets- so when my kids mom said she didn't approve of him seeing it this weekend due to his attitude, I knew we were going to see the goddam Yu-Gi-Oh! And I was not disappointed! Ancient Egyptian myths interwoven between three hundred foot tall half-robot half-animal battles every three minutes, intersperced with witty comedic dialog, plenty of catchphrases that ten year olds dig and say back to you, laughing, a second after the characters say it on the screen, your son chuckling at the fact that a dude with long hair and a deck of cards could say something so witty from the shoulder of a metal dragon amidst the heat of battle. Yeah, the movie was rightous.



So the lights went down and we snuggled into our backrow seats and George deployed his corn syrup arsenal that we had wisely stocked up on at Target. A gobstopper the size of a pool ball in his left hand, and a cup of sour skittles in his right (you didn't know they made those, did you?), but he forgot all about a clear lollypop with hard candy in the center that lay deep within his pocket until the ride home. I drew the line at soda, so we stood in the popcorn line to get little cups of ice to fill at the fountain by the bathroom . . . like homeless people. Now us Hicks, we don't pay five dollars for a cup of twelve ounces of coke, half full of ice, that you're just gonna drink during the previews anyway. If I did that, then I'd be the homeless guy, but I'd be sleeping in the theatre.

Okay, I officialy am kicking myself in the ass for not living in Alaska. It's too long you have been away from Cat Town. If you can get C-Span, watch the live feed from the RNC in New York, or click here.



An in depth, Yu-Gi-Oh! movie review is coming tomorrow . . . the suspense is tangible.

Please tell the monkey I want my glasses back.

In all seriousness folks, I hope you enjoy the songs in the music section, as that is what this site is about, not me making up tall-tales about my penis. Although that type of prose can be enjoyable, under the right combination of circumstances, alas, that is just not the case anymore. Don't worry, next time I'm unemployed with a kid and two cats to support (and that scenario seems somewhat inevitable at this point), you'll definetly be hearing more about the wonders of my pecker.
Getting to the point of our post, read what George Soros thinks about our current president, and what he is doing about it. All I have to say is I don't believe in a god, but if I did, I would pray every fucking second for Soros to be our president. With Howard Dean as vice. But just to confuse you even more, let's compare Soros and Sun Myung Moon, and see who we prefer.
A new planet has been discovered that is only fifty light years away (that's close in universal terms) that shows earth-like attributes. Alright, it's fourteen times the size of Earth, but it is not gaseous. In closing I say, "Kids, stick with the rubbers!"
Everyone have fun, be safe, and don't do anything stupid.
Lar

And now at last, the photo you have all been waiting for. Sometimes we all feel like that bunny in the backseat, no?



Here is a link to bear guzzles thirty-six beers. As I look around my apartment, I see over twenty-four beers. This count has been verified by a third party.

I kinda feel I am posting too much. All you people reading this who are sick of reading my stupid dialog, post a comment. Really. It's what the internet was made for.
The internet is just a mode of communication. Nothing more. As of yet. But I have put a moratorium upon jacking-off to pictures from the internet. I just feel lousy afterwards, because instead of lighting a cigarette, I gently shut my CPU down. The only time I felt more emasculated was after my bris in the eighth grade talent show. I came in third, there were other jews . . . but I just didn't have the chutzpah.
Just so you know, because the inquiring mind WANTS TO KNOW, I went and got myself circumcised about a month ago. You know, I was tired of girls being like, "Aww, that's too much cock in my face!" or more commonly, "Cut me some slack, papa, and learn to move it . . . garbanza!"
Sex feels good, but you're just making more problems, ladies and germs. I wish I could tell you that propagation is a needed thing on this planet right now, because it's rutting season for you, but the world don't need no more babies. Just adopt, even as a part-time parent you are better than no parent, just fucking adopt. There are too many kids, and too few parents.

Okay, back into happyland, our picture that makes no fucking sense is right HERE ------------------->



So what's going on tonight, people? I am asking you tonight, what is bliss? And does it resemble a prison when you step away and look at it? You know, when you put your foot in another persons shoe. Because that happens all the time at your karate classes. So you're in your car that needs repairs, and you need gas. You approach the plexiglass window and pay for twenty bucks worth of petrol to fill up your jalopy. The courtesy clerk announces that your bill is a counterfit bill, and you get no gas and no change. You become flummoxed.

To shove your snub-nose 45. through the teller window and get that twenty bucks back, turn to page 89

To remember your karate teachers wisdom, "No hooky, no nookie" turn to 112

Kill me, kill me now! I don't want to live forever, looked upon as a misfit, all the while . . . serving the public good. A travisty, I say!
Man the hatches!
Boon my docks!



These stupid whales, who be calling themsleves people, are endlessly cutting me off in lane traffic. That's an 'in joke' as they say in the trade. See, I don't drive. Wah- whaaa.
Okay, I am writing to nobody, in no real context, {the web} with no fixed goal/result. What will happen? Sing, bird, sing!
Kick out the jams,
Falafel, til midnight,
Yours truly in hebrew,
Lari

In love, in love with what? Grandeur? Holiness? Piousness? Greed? Sacrifice? Dismal abondon in a dank dungeon of your own malfeasance? Or the liberty and self satisfaction of existing to make something of yourself, just for you! As a present to yourself.



Who are we? Are we just thoughts in chemicals, screaming around in our bodies, uncousciously? Or also, hormonally? Are our bodies self medicating us to excell at something? Something we only need to believe in and have (I hate this word) faith?
Surely, our genetic makeup can allow us pure love, true love as in sacrifice and pleasure, together?
In a past life I said, "It is a pleasure for me to throw my raincoat down over this mud puddle for you, Ms. Jenkins, that you may cross this intersection and enter our carriage unmolested, this rainy evening." Where did all the chivalry go? Back east I guess. Do women miss having guys destroy valuable personal articles of clothing for them so they can save their heel crossing a mud puddle anymore? No! WTF, society is out of control!



I bring a back up-jacket now . . . Actually two, one for before the movie and one for after, so we can get back into the car, unmolested. Did I mention we live in Minnesota? That's in the continental United States. If you were wondering.
Okay there are, I believe, five new songs up for your listening pleasure.

The flash game for this week is -----> Dark Tower

Your jesus freak of the week.

Your quantum computing through teleportation deams have been realized. Whew!

Your military man who served for nine years on active duty and three years as a reservist and now wants out.

Your bi-weekly former NATO commander Wesley Clark slams Bush's troop recall plan. Don't you love getting your news from Aljazeera?

Your I don't like DNA profiling, but it's inevitable link

Your I love Bush site

Your Kurt Vonnegut for the week

Your Britain to allow cloning of human embryos story for the week

The wait is over. Your link to bible.com

Your amateur ghost-busting kit

And, lest we forget, your helpless mouse photo of the week ----->



I don't have to apologize for shit, but seeing as I love you all . . . and all . . . I hereby do apologize for the perverted prose published in this blog throughout the past week. It's been rainy here, and as a guy, my weenie and I are kinda close. That I may speak of it (him) in some sort of playful or perhaps erotic way and that offends you, well . . . well may I be so bold as to say that that offends me.
You can't like me and not like the, most of the time, flaccid, lint collecting, appendage located on my most southern midsection. I can't get away from him so I feel that you should accept him, like you accept me, me and my little buddy, carne asada.

Hi kids, how was the world today? Spent alot of time on my bike today, that shit hurts your ass. Am I getting old? With a gut and all? Well, I can always move to the southeast, it's fashionable there. I'll shove some plug back in my lower gums, and hit the Wall Mart to buy some hog manure for loading in the bed of my truck, you know, the truck that wears the custom (you've seen it) american flag gun rack. Which, coincidentally, is also available from Wall Mart under exclusive license from Taiwan.

I can see why American culture just overwhelms immigrants when they first go to Target or the mall. You can outfit a fucking civilization from your local Wall Mart.
Guns? Check.
Food stuffs? Check.
Camping and survival gear? Check.
Clothes? Check.
They just need to add the Mayflower model ship to their inventory, and The King of Spain will be proud. I am learning to love life again with the help of good music. Props to: Chemical Brothers (well, I like one song of theirs), Warren Zevon, Don Caballero, Robyn Hitchcock, Gang Of Four, Fleshtones, John Frusciante. Hopefully, the new R.E.M. due in October will be great. One can hope and pray.
All be good, or at least good at it.
New songs soon! See technical difficulties above ----->

I just realized that some people might read these posts and think, "This guy's a total asshole." And while I won't begrudge you that, I will say, suck my balls. That's right, I don't even like getting my balls sucked, they are kinda tender, somewhat delicate objects to me. What really feels good is the tip of your tongue right on the underside of the tip of my weenie. Ha ha. Weenie. That is a very underused word.
It is 12:45 in Houston Texas on Thursday morning and I am getting somewhat drunk even though I need to be up at 9:15. Life is somewhat better for me, if any of you read my post a week or two ago, I was wishing the bubonic plague upon all humanity, even the starving etheopians, but I am pleased to report that I would now merely be amused if a meteor struck our planet as opposed to activley disiring it. Amused for like the ten milliseconds I had to contemplate the impact.

What a chuckle. Guess what two nerds have birthdays in August? Me and D&D. We both turned thirty this August. I just have this to say about D&D, I never really got how to play it correctly until like five years ago, and yet my mind was prematurely advanced by many degrees due to the endless reading as a kid to comprehend those charts and deep, compelling prose. On the other side of the coin, I probably could have been sixteen, with a Firebird in the driveway, getting laid every night at the movies if I had avoided that crap.
But everything is crap in the long run, even you and I, and at least I console myself saying that D&D was intellectual crap for my formative years. But even that dosen't explain away why I keep fantasizing about teenage pussy in the bathroom at work. I'm going to request our company stop suscribling to Teen People. When I'm getting a hard-on for one of those girls who used to be a stumbling toddler on Full House, it's time to make some lifestyle changes. Plus, I'm gonna rip up my female elf paladins character sheet for good measure.

Even girls who are eighteen [legal!], well, that's far too much of a stretch now. And I just have to say, I passed up so much good pussy in my teenage years cause my sisters had too many f-in Judy Bloom books around the house, and I was fooled into thinking, "No, I shouldn't. While {girl X} could be lying there, naked on my bed, beconing me back into the house (with her beautiful sixteen year old breasts), the house I grew up in, while I hunch puking, puking into the bushes, my parents are out of town, and her and I are drunk as coons . . . I can't possibliy ravish her to the fullest potential of my innermost desires . . . I'll wait, and we'll have a meaningful relationship first, that's proper."
That's what I used to think. That I had all the time in the world. That our relationship would flourish and blossom into a delightful fragrant bouquet of give and take, sixty-nine till death or something.
Let me tell you this gentlemen, and I know you already know this- but if there are any young men, or women out there reading this ---> get it while it's hot. Just wear a condom and have a blast!. Shit, once my kid hits puberty, I'm gonna just start giving him rubbers with his lunch money. Fuck straight A's. Just get through college without conceiving another human life or catching AIDS.
Thank God we have Bush and his party only funding abstinance. Now when people don't get laid, they go off like Jeffrey Dalmer and shit. Instead of quote, unquote, 'abstinance' or 'safe sex', or 'terrible sex', we need to be teaching about really-good orgasmic safe-sex, which is a total reality if the proper measures are taken. It's just that the bible thumping/koran reciting lunatics run the show right now.

p.s. I'm taking my kid to see the Yu-gi-0 movie this weekend. Huzzah. I told him, "Let's go see the Alien vs. Predator!", and I learn, screw the alien, this Yu-gi-O movie is hot with the fourth graders. Expect a movie review on Monday.

Hi all, how's life on this rock flying through space, obeying neither the heed nor whimsy of any living thing? Blindly hurtling through the known and unknown cosmos, we live in a stunted fragment of reality realized only through our pathetic, prehensile, pre-modern five senses.
Sight.
When I was a kid I really used to think that if I couldn't see you, you couldn't see me. I did not understand that spatial realities are entirely dependant on the subjects point of view. Literally. Because you were obscured from my vision did not in fact imply that you, from your entirely diffrent view point, that is, sensory positon relative to the event, could not see me in my entirety. If you did somehow see me, you'd just catch alot of jerking off, and that's not gonna be very entertaining except for me and my little buddy who I like to call poppy chulo. But what the fuck are you thinking about my dick for anyway, you fucking homo? Damn, go read some other pedophile web site, you fag. There's a great thread for you at Underage Teen Olympians.twat.
You know, I'm glad they have signs posted in the neighborhood when you move in now, you cho-mo. Now everyone can see the value of their house drop like a turd in the toilet cause there's a flashing christmas-lighted, eight by six foot, very durable, wrought iron sign planted directly ajacent to their property proclaiming in bold one hundred and eighty-five point curio font, "The guy who lives here likes to fuck little boys. Welcome to the homeowners association! Have your trashcans in by nine. Thank you."
Thanks for not growing up, sir, and just continuing to have sex with kids, you freak. Now sex itself is not a freaky thing, it's just that adults go to the dance or strip club, these guys snort angeldust and hit the Toys 'R' Us in their scooby do van, freeballin' it with those rip-off parachute pants. Have you ever noticed there's always someone in the bathroom at the Toys 'R' Us? And why is there a condom dispenser on the wall in there with a picture of Barney on it that reads, tokens only?

"I love you, you love me, homosexuality, with a knicknack paddywhack give the dog a bone, this old man came rolling home."
Just a little bit I pitched to American Idol.
So what's with the Jacksons, all at Michael's court hearing, decked out in white threads, like the fucking mutant mafia? I mean they were all there, they all drove up in a brigade white limos and media! We all know there have been major family spats over the wealth. Everyone says money will do that to a person, but I'm still eagerly waiting to find out. There are ten (that's 10!) counts againts M.J.! Kidnapping, drugging some kid up, and the child molestation charges.
The only reason I'm metioning this is that about two weeks earlier, Michaels defence asked the judge for a, I'm not kidding, a celebrity status of being sheilded from the first amendment in our bill of rights which states that Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press. Now this ridiculous argument, had the judge agreed with it, and anything is possible, would have excused the media from reporting that Mike likes to make bubbles in the tub with little boys. So when this request by the defence is obviously denied, the Jacksons do a 180 and engage in 'lets get on T.V., and all wear white, and project solidarity in this,- so we all look more like freaks then we already are.
You know, Catholicism is hurting right now, but wouldn't it be perfect if the pope hired Michael Jackson to promote the Vaticans stance on abstinace? Or better yet, if the pope kicked off, and M.J. sang at his funeral, with an all-boy back-up choir of course. Bishop Willard, an ex-partiarch out of Boston and fellow fry cook at Wendy's always advised me, snip the ballsack before they hit puberty, and you got a beautiful priest fucktoy that will sing like a lark for the next sixty years. It's brilliant really- good singing, plus good sex.
I'd probaly go in for Catholicism if I didn't like the system I got now. I die and that's it- cause I'm dead. Simple, efficient, voila! It's a great system. I don't want past shit coming back to catch up with me if we reincarnate. I'm living my life like James Dean, baby! As many credit cards as possible, all maxed out! Bagels and cream-cheese for breakfast, a greasy burger for lunch, fried chicked and alcohol for dinner! The fucking food pyramid? Hey, that's way to scientific for me. People accept things that science tells them is so every second of every day, but contrary to all the evidence that when you die you're really dead, that's it, forever, they draw the line.
The slick award goes to mormons. Now mormons get planets. I mean now come on, you're a young mormon buck, already saddled with twelve wives in nine counties, you're all in on the church-banking-tax-racket they got going with the IRS, and now they tell you your getting a fucking planet.
Apperantly, humility is not in the mormon vernacular.
So these two clean cut, brainwashed mormon boys came by our apartment complex, knocking on doors, spreading the faith on ten-speeds. I of course greeted them, accepted thier literature, and invited them in for some pixi-stix and ovaltine. While chatting with them about the tenants of the faith, I suavley hit play on the remote that ran to the soundsystem connected to the VCR feeding the television set which began broadcasting the classic seventies movie, Flash Gordon. While the pixi-stix may have addled the youths brains, as I had assured them you snort the stix, "That's right! Like in the movies!"- I announced I knew of the planets we would rule as galactic brothers in cosmic finality, through galactic armorment. The youths were brought to tears and then looked askew betwixt each other. It was then that I remembered that both the boys had introduced themseves as Dan. Abruptly, the two sprang up at pricisley the same moment, and dashed madly for the door. I yelled from the tiger print sofa, "Flash Gordon, Flash Gordon knows!" But to little avail.
The youngsters were last seen blowing truckers behind the greyhound terminal dumpsters for speed.

I am fully committed, I just realized this, I want a fucking planet, bitch! I'll pay the tithe! Hmmm. I will have to figure out what I'm gonna wear as the ruler of a planet. People will be looking. I will be importaint. Cool. My planet's gonna be the best!

Okay, I am trying to post this intricate, multi-layered blog, and the f-ing system is being screwi. The full details will come out this week, but as for now, here are four new songs!
I have good links too. :>

Hello Earth, there are four new songs for you in the music section. Was a little late posting this week due to thermo-psychic trembles in the planets rotation. You know how it goes.
All is well now.
So check out the new songs and look to the lemonade stand to work out your anticapitalist needs. Here is your old faithful LiteBrite to keep your walls occupied. Einstein's general theory of relativity goes under it's most thourough annalisys scence man first launched a space probe. Will leave more links in the coming days . . . I'm working on my spelling :)



Read what Ron Reagan has to say about the state of the union. In fact, if that tickled your fancy, check out what Norman Mailer and his son think about our state of affairs.
Don't do anything stupid!

Hullo world. There are two new songs for you in the music section. Hallelujah! Halla-fallujah! I am watching Spinal Tap now on Bravo and I have to say I don't remember it being this funny before! We all need to know more about Ryan's escapades with Rubens Accomplice! Tell us please Ryan? How was St. George?



I am rotting in Houston Texas, and it is starting to get to me :) And I thought I was UNBREAKABLE! My favorite shows are Northern Exposure and Magnum P.I. I know you could care less, but now that I have you reading this, you are trapped, you can't escape! Well, you could just close the window- but you wouldn't do that now would you? Okay people, I will be be honest for once. I am losing my fucking mind.



Let me restate that: I AM losing my fucking mind. But you say, "Larry, you can't be losing your mind if you are here typing to us about it- rationalizing it to us!" And my reply would be, predictably, "Watch me." I used to suck it up, act like everything was cool, but now I know it's pointless. I will no longer pull punches, I will no longer put a happy face on a fucking living hell.
Ladies and germs, to quote Monty Python, "Life's a piece of shit when you look at it." I have no fucking job, no fucking money, no fucking friends (not counting the internet, although if you keep reading this drivel, that statement will be applicable here too) no fucking car, no fucking sex life, and a goddam psychological war on my hands (ten years running now) to even speak to my son, let alone see him. My family (two sisters and a Mom) are as fucking stoopid as a retarded goat in heat, and I am 20,000 dollars in debt to the Texas child support division for being a 'deadbeat dad'. 20,000 dollars for the privilege to be treated like shit- no wait, that would be a fucking godsend to be treated like shit- to have the goddam motherfucking MAN tell me I owe 20,000 dollars to my kids mom, while I have been following their fucking family around the country for the past five years. There is a goddam tax funded entity in place to hound me for child support, when I get no enforcement of visitation whatsoever. But wait! Salvation! I can pay money to get a lawyer. Money, money, money!!! It's great! Money makes everyone happy! It solves all of life's problems right? I should become a counterfeiter, I could print happiness!

What are my skills? What skills do I posess that could make me money on this fucking rock we call Earth? Hmm, I can write somewhat witty, but pathetic victim-type prose to a nonexistant audiance in the virtual playground called 'the Web', and I can write somewhat funny and catchy songs. Boy, those skills are gonna get me far! Do you know what it's like to watch total fucking morons brag about their new high paying job they got just because they went to college?!? To see people with degrees, who think they know shit about what makes this world tick? Not that a degree is a dumb thing to acheive, but the majority of degree holders out there couldn't find their way out of a scotch taped cardboard box. Bush is our great leader, right? Might makes right, right? Death and suffering don't exist if I can't see it, if the news dosen't show it right? If I just shut up, show up, and do as they say, I will get ahead, right? Be a loyal plastic robot for a world that dosen't care.



I am losing my fucking mind people, and you know what, I don't even fight it anymore. Is it odd I pray for a fucking comet to come and wipe the slate clean here on this planet? Please, oh all you unworshipped and forgotten Gods of eons past, please with all my heart, soul, and semen, come and smash this reality we experience with the iron fist of nature only you possess. Life is but a stinky fart in the wind, and the sooner we get used to breathing it in, deeply, the sooner we can get over ourselves. I am a seething black ball of hate for all humanity and the evils we create. My apartment looks like a fucking steam engine ran through it after a hurricane of dead fish, bloated frogs, and iridescent lichen blasted the walls with the fury of fifty thousand rabid elephants steaming at its heels. Does that make any sense to you? Me neither. Does this ranting and raving on the net make me feel better? Well, to tell you the truth, not really. But for those of you who haven't lost hope- good for you! The world isn't bad, it's just inherently evil. And I for one am not ashamed to admit I am getting sucked into it's bitter, frothing maw. My values are becoming nonexistant. My humor is turing into volatile spiel of the first magnitude, my empathy for the world around me has transformed itself into a sneering mockery of compassion.



Well, Mel Brooks' The History Of The World Part 1 is on, and I feel a little better. Thanks Mel. Just be forewarned, the old Larry is on his last leg, and the new chaotic evil Larry is about to punch in full time. Yes, I still love you all, but I dispise the society I inhabit. Amen, bitch.
Hope you like the new songs. Check out this new flash Castlevania game. Yeah, I thought you'd like that. And go check out what Hamzi has to say, if you don't believe me. Well, talk to you next week, unless my dreams are realized and mother nature destroys us all before we can commit suicide by blowing ourselves up with nuclear bombs. Sweet dreams, kids. Peace, love, and granola,
Soon to be chaotic evil,
Larry