Last evening, upon returning from Friday mass, I was moved to pray for the fine people our great nation.
Not really. I got home super late last night, and it being Friday, I decided, “Fuck it. I’m going to insanely high anyway.” So I did, and it’s legal here, so I’m not only a hero, I’m a great citizen.
So, a candy, a crazy potent brownie… (I’m not kidding. 500 mg THC brownie the size of 2/3 of a credit card. I have been nibbling it like a little mouse all week), a couple bowls of Animal Crackers weed (see the weekly review), AND infinite hits of the vape pen later (no half measures for this man)… I was super high.
I was so high that I decided to get on YouTube and watch/listen to old Fleetwood Mac songs. Old ones, from when they were a hard blues band, all the way to the fluff of the Rumours era. It was lovely. I dozed, I floated. I lucid dreamed Stevie Nicks vs the Green Manalishi… it was lovely. THEN the above video played (the blessing/curse of autoplay) and I was ripped from revery, and faced with this guy.
Ok. Watch this video while you read this. This guy is so amazingly information rich…. it’s like Finnegan’s Wake on drums. Here’s why.
- His drum setup is insane. Look at all the cymbals.
- His drums seem wedged between a built in china cabinet and… another built in china cabinet?
- I don’t know how, but I am sure that his mom is no more than 10 feet away
- Little Lies? You’re going to live drum to an 80’s pop song from Fleetwood Mac? That’s your showpiece?
- He’s not great
- He’s not terrible
- He has shared this with the world.
- Half a million people have watched this
- Despite half a million in the audience, our man is obviously very alone (mom doesn’t count)
- We have only been able to share videos of ourselves doing shit like this for a few years. This is a new phenomenon.
- Sociology. This is. Read Bowling Alone.
Marvin Fleer, you are the shining exemplar of this day and age. You are the zeitgeist. Go forth and drum forever.
Dale and I collaborate on our posts (which are now written on Movie Pilot, go there and look for us), and I use legal cannabis to help with creativity. Also I’m usually gaming while Dale is writing, so… it goes hand in hand.
This text fragment is a peek into the creative process. What is art? What is life? What is love? Baby, don’t hurt me.
Unremembered Drinking Bodes Not Well
Dale apparently crafts items for gnomes when drunk
The handiwork of a skilled artisan.
Dale Went Off The Rails
Crafted Tools For The Wee Folk
I was texting with Mighty Dale, as I do, and as we were discussing current events, he texted this non sequitur (seen above):
The top of the Jameson bottle is off and there is lots missing
It seems that after his traditional Friday night revelries, Mighty Dale decided to keep the party going once he got home. My tastes in revelry differ from Dale’s, as I lean more towards the wonders of legal weed. Dale loves the sweet sweet whiskey. To each his own.
What makes this interesting is the assortment of little knick knacks and gadgets drunk Dale crafted, out of duct tape, while wasted. Even when three sheets to the wind, our Dale is always creating, and that is… an Artist.
I Live In Oregon
Weed is Sold in Stores
Last night Dale and I were texting, as we do, and he said he was bored. I had just smoked some high THC sativa (Durban Poison to be precise), and I had lots of ideas with which Dale could occupy himself.
He did none of these things. Wise choice.
Orson Welles created a movie about art forgery, and deception, called F for Fake. It was about famous art forger Elmyr, and Clifford Irving, who forged Howard Hughes’ diaries, and will.
Surrealist icon Dali drew a penis on his wife’s forehead, signing it Picasso.
Andy Warhol would sign dollar bills and soup cans, giving admirers a “signed Warhol”.
What is art? What is truth? Where is my lighter?
Slim Pickins Until Late January
December is a TV Graveyard
There is no hope. You know it. I know it. Mighty Dale knows it. The only force moving my fingers on this keyboard is duty. I must use my remaining strength to leave a message to those that follow, those who have the fortitude to last until late January for shows like:
- The Walking Dead
- The Flash
It Gets Worse
The shows above have abandoned us, but they will return, like Papa after a long bender. They’ll be back with fried chicken and a movie from Redbox. Some, however, are like mama. They just left with only a nicotine stained kiss that you barely remember, because you were asleep. Here are the fuckers who just bailed.
- You’re The Worst – Season 2 is over.
- South Park – Season 19 is over.
Sunbeams are just God pissing on us all
The most despicable of all teasing whores is yet to come. Game of Thrones, that hot girl who lived with you for a few weeks last year, and was the filthiest, sluttiest, dirty talkingest chick in the whole world. Where every night was a threesome with her even hotter friend? Yeah. Then she bounced with your Xbox and your brother’s ashes…. yeah. That’s Game of Thrones. That bitch will be back in April. Right after you can look yourself in the mirror again and say that it’s gonna be ok. She’ll be back and she’ll pierce your dick with her vampire fangs, and you’ll love it.
I know there’s one episode of Z Nation left, but that’s like having one beer in the fridge. Ash vs Evil Dead can’t do it alone, even though it’s great. It’s only half an hour long, and once a week. That’s like …. I can’t even come up with a simile. It’s not enough. It just isn’t. I’m going to start listening to Adele I guess. Fuck it.
Might as well just watch NCIS, or JAG, or … shit I don’t know. Cooking shows, I guess. There’s a shit load of them. That big headed chick with the tits is hot… I guess…. I’m going to lay down for a awhile. Wake me next month.
South Park Is The Cassandra Of Our Time
The Wisdom Of South Park
Season 19 of South Park is shaking things up. That’s no surprise since South Park is often about social issues. The episode where Cartman cooked Scott Tennerman’s parents was about anti-vaxxers, for instance.
I made that screen grab from last night’s episode, featuring Jimmy and former anchormen vs advertising. It sounds dumb and it is, but it also isn’t, because of the wisdom above.
She d-d-doesn’t know she’s an ad, does she?
Jimmy starts rationalizing the existence of ads in human form, because he likes one of them. She’s cute. So the anchormen try to bring him back to his sense by saying, “You’re thinking with your dick. Stop thinking with your dick.” Yes. If we can all stop thinking with our dick, or lady dick as it were, then we could all be free of the constant barrage of neurolinguistic programming to which we’re subjected. Here endeth the lesson. Penus.