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::Previous::
  • Don't Panic...

  • Comment Preservation

  • Visiting Bane

  • Birthday Wishes

  • Bane Would Be OK With This

  • Contact Me

  • Grandpa Is Looking Down...

  • Johnny Update

  • As time has passed I thought another big update would be in order….

  • Thank You Blogosphere Friends

  • Bane Had a Lair

  • God Has Called Him Home

  • A Walk In The Woods...

  • That's What It's All About...

  • The Godess Speaks!

  • Terminator IV...

  • Wow!

  • Wherein Bane Takes A Shower...

  • This Is My Favorite Song, Ever...

  • Vote For LL's Blog...

  • Heidi Needs Prayer...

  • Bloody Weather...

  • Friday Ass...

  • Good, Die, You Dumb Bitch...

  • September 11th...



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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Tuesday, September 25, 2012

    Don't Panic...

    ....says the girl who is freaking the fuck out. I know the template is gone. I am trying to fix things. I hope to have it all back together soon, but if I can't, please don't hate me. This new blogger format is fucked to all end and I hate it and I'm just trying to preserve the posts and comments. And in the end, if I can get the old Bane Rants look back, I'll be golden, but for now, it is just...jacked. I'm so sorry.

     UPDATE 2 MINUTES LATER: Whew, ok, I fixed it. Holy shit that was scary. I think about what he would have done to me and I shudder. That's how he and I became friends...I fixed his jacked up template that he swore NO ONE could fix. To make it all disappear for a while was terrifying. It's all good now. On to importing the comments to Disqus so we can all go back and reminisce on his special brand of crazy.




        Monday, September 24, 2012

    Comment Preservation

    This is LL and I'm going to try to import all the comments into disqus this week before everything expires and disappears. The blog itself will not disappear. Just an FYI for those of you who still come over here.




        Tuesday, May 24, 2011

    Visiting Bane

    I will be visiting Bane on this Friday (with his son, the youngest Marine, the one I called Baby Bane), to pay my respects. If you'd like to send me an email to leave there for him, I'm sure he'd laugh to think he's still hearing from his crazy readers. You can hit me up at LL at chromedcurses dot com. Just put Bane in the subject line.




        Wednesday, November 04, 2009

    Birthday Wishes

    Today is Mrs. Bane's birthday!! Happy birthday, you wonderful woman!




        Wednesday, October 14, 2009

    Bane Would Be OK With This

    Hey everyone, I don't know how many people still check back here. Way before Bane passed away, he gave me the keys here and said if anything happened to him, I could do as I pleased with the site. I stay off of here for the most part.

    But I KNOW for a fact Bane would have wanted this done. He was friends with James Hooker. I met them both at the same site and watched the interplay between Acidman, Bane, Hooker, and Nate from Galactic Blogger Blaster. That was my first introduction to these men. A perverted introduction at the time, but amusing and intriguing. Only Nate and Hooker remain.

    So Hooker is doing some things. He has 2 albums to be released. One, Maggie's Drawers, can be found here and you can download songs and pay for them as you see fit via the paypal account. Please consider tossing a few ducats to compensate the man for his time and energy and music.

    Also, in a few weeks, he will be releasing his second album. This is the one that he would really move Bane to blog about. All proceeds of the album Hanging Out With the Boys will go to Soldiers Angels. Bane was a true believer in the military men and women (as long as they weren't tatted or pierced haha) and he would encourage you to donate when the time came. Please bookmark Hooker's site and consider giving money to his cause.

    I feel confident that this is the right thing to do on this site.

    Thanks.
    ~LL




        Sunday, August 23, 2009

    Contact Me

    This is LL and I need BB from Mass. to contact me. I don't check my PO box often anymore and just received something for the family from you. Please contact me at LL at chromedcurses dot com. Thanks.




        Friday, July 10, 2009

    Grandpa Is Looking Down...

    ...and he is so proud!!




       

    Johnny Update

    We are home from the surgery and Johnny is on the mend!!

    The reconstruction went well. The day/ week was not without its drama, but everything worked out anyway…. The surgery took place on July 8th. I was with him when they put him to sleep around 1:30pm. He was out until about 8:00 pm. Nat and I walked him to his room around 8:30pm. The first hour or so was spent placing I.V.’s and such, the rest was spent tinkering under the hood etc.

    We expected a two to three day stay, so I was surprised yesterday when they said, as soon as he is stable and eating you can leave. He was sleepy and dizzy (couldn’t stand without assistance) and didn’t feel ready for food yet (he threw up the first solid thing he tried, a carton of milk). I didn’t think we were going to get out of there until late evening or the following day, when John woke up with a start and announced that they needed to get the stupid I.V.’s out of his arms and that he needed to pee. He got up with little trouble and walked into the bathroom…. We offered him food and he said no thank you, until he learned that he needed to eat before he could go home or get the hardware out of his arms. Suddenly he changed his mind. It wasn’t much, but he ate enough. We were on the road, scripts in hand in time to miss rush hour traffic. How is that for grace? Can I get an amen?!!

    He’ll have to wear a splint on his nose for a week. After that he’ll only need it at night until the healing is complete. His rib is sore, but I already see improvement in mobility.

    Right now he is reveling in the continual attention he is getting from Nurse Mom and CNA Nat. Nurse mom needs a nap….



    Once again, thank you for your prayers, concern and support!!

    Mrs. Bane




        Thursday, June 25, 2009

    As time has passed I thought another big update would be in order….

    We are all doing amazingly well. Both kids absolutely loved school: Johnny had a boat load of testing done and got his IEP. The process was tedious, but he has flourished. He worked up to a full day, with a mix of specialized work and regular class room work. He uses a little keyboard system for most of the time, as writing will always be a challenge…. He even won a blue ribbon at the County Fair on a project that he completed with another classmate. I went to the school to find him before the Summer break and he was running around the playground with three little girls following close behind. He politely introduced me to each of them (like a little adult) he is a different kid, very nice, not as ornery as most boys his age…. Nat has blossomed as well. She has a BFF (best friends forever) who lives less than a block from us and she is a member of the “Werewolf Club”. This basically means that there are little kids running around howling and pretending to feed each other. It is comical, because it is so second grade and not Goth at all. She was a little behind academically (I/she was to stressed and scattered to do a good job before Bane died. You have no idea just how hard life was around here with him failing!) I wouldn’t wish my experience on anyone!! Anyway, she is catching up and is totally enthusiastic about learning and works very hard to do her best.

    This summer I bought a pass to our local pool/water park and I have taught Nat how to swim (she still has several lessons to go to learn more advanced skills). Johnny got to take two weeks of swimming lessons as part of his PE at the end of the school year. He surprised me when he jumped fearlessly off the diving board in 14’ deep water.

    Fathers Day was a mixed bag. Both kids wanted to release balloons with notes to their dad on them, so we did that. It was sweet, we did that part over at the grandparents house (Bane’s folks). -Earlier, Nat fell apart at church, sobbing in a corner that she missed daddy. Johnny was fine until he saw this, then he got instant diarrhea from the stress (oh so fun). Fortunately his tummy settled down and the problem didn’t last.

    PLEASE PRAY:

    Johnny is looking at another surgery right after the Fourth of July. He will have a piece of rib grafted into his nose. There is titanium mesh and bone paste to “chip away” in his bridge. And a septal defect/surgery failure to correct. He will get new tubes in his ears and they will also remove some metal from inside of his upper gum line that was left behind from a previous surgery, so that he can have braces, and hopefully later another maxio-facial surgery that could eliminate his need for a c-pap. He’ll have a splint for a week and he won’t get to use the pool for a month, but it has to be done. I know that the pool may seem trivial, but after all we have gone through, this year is a time for us to heal and it means a lot to all of us.

    I went to a grief counselor for a while, then I participated in a grief group that met for six weeks. It was amazingly helpful. I’m not doing any of that anymore. I don’t seem to need it. There are still moments that are a little overwhelming, but I don’t live in a perpetual whirlpool of sadness anymore and I look forward to my future. I have strong faith in God and that he has a plan for the rest of my life. This season has really been about reestablishing my identity and learning how to rest and heal in Father God’s love. We switched churches recently –There is newness of life for us at this time, despite our loss(es) I also lost my best friend to cancer in May.

    I am enjoying the kids and getting into pretty good shape, working out, gardening swimming laps and playing with the kids. I’m lucky; I used to be a veritable physical beast, so I have amazing muscle memory. Just a little discipline goes a long way for me. I’m wearing my skinny clothes now and getting firmer every week, (even after picking 25 lbs of strawberries and pigging out on strawberry cheesecake and real whipping cream.)

    Again, I can’t begin to communicate what all of your support has meant to us. Nat just asked me to tell all of you “thanks for helping us after our problem with daddy”. We all appreciate it and we have felt your prayers. I’m praying that those blessing go back at ya!!

    Love, Mrs. Bane




        Thursday, March 19, 2009

    Thank You Blogosphere Friends

    Mrs. Bane says: A very long Thank You to Blogosphere Friends!

    I have put off the most important post of all; my thank you post and up-date. I’ve started to write it at least a dozen times and walked away, while emotions overwhelmed me to the point that I couldn’t handle them…

    After he died I was shaken and numb, but not numb enough… There was a mountain of paperwork to deal with; all of it was time sensitive. Then there were six birthdays, our wedding anniversary plus Thanksgiving and Christmas, all in one to two week intervals. My kids needed me to be as stable… I wouldn’t have made it if the gentle hands of God were not supporting all of us.

    He sent a good bit of that support through Bane’s readers and friends on line:

    There are no adequate words to thank you for all that you have done for us. During the interim period while our finances shifted and finally settled, we have had every need taken care of, and many wants as well,! And at a time when our economy has gone crazy, we have landed on our feetJ

    Thanks to all of you! Thank you Wendy; for being out front and for facilitating everything, flying out for the funeral and for your ear and continued friendship! You are a jewelJ Thank you to our Secret Santa! Who ever you are, God bless you! Thank you to each and every one of you who helped us pay our bills... And for the multitude of your prayers (I have sure felt them). Thank you for leaving your condolence notes in the last comment box, all 200+ of them…Thank you for helping me with the computer (You know who you are). Thank you Jesus! As cantankerous as he was, Bane sure drew a lot of high quality folks to himself.

    After his death, I went to see a grief counselor. She suggested that I journal. I tried, but I just couldn’t do it. When I did force myself I was such a basket case that I couldn’t function.

    The big kids accidentally crashed Banes computer mining it for writing and I didn’t get it up and running until about a month ago. I’ve had net access for less than that. The first time I bravely turned on the computer and opened outlook, I nearly fainted. It felt like I was having an out of body experience. There, in front of me were his personal reminders: Take your big white pill, hair cut in two days. Ann Coulter post is late, etc… In the following weeks I opened his blog for the first time since… -That is when I started to write. Stories flow onto pages like water from an artesian spring. This is funny, cause I haven’t written a story since college (think 1990), and that was with a great deal of pain. I’m still deciding whether to post them for those of you who would like to read them. I’m having fun and they are cathartic for me to write, plus they will add historical accounts for our kids one day.

    The kids: You have asked about them: The little ones are doing quite nicely, considering everything.

    I put them in school… I know, I know! I just couldn’t home school now. This has gone far better than I would have ever imagined, and if it doesn’t work out, I can always make another change.

    Nat is doing well… She finally gets to be a little girl! While I was at work, she took care of Bane and helped him with her brother (especially near the end, when he was really too sick to do anything more than supervise). These are treasured memories, but it was extremely hard on her too. She’s a social butterfly, and is learning at lightning speedJ She is grieving well; at least she is facing her pain and releasing her anger and sadness in healthy ways.

    Johnny hasn’t really grieved though. He gets really weird when the topic of Daddy comes up, regardless of the context. Then he tries to distract us and himself into a “happy place”, far from there. He is hyper vigilant about my emotions too. most of the time, I can’t even sneak in a silent tear without him picking up on it. Other than that, he is thriving. He is becoming more independent (in a good way),learning, having fun, making friends well and adjusting to the changes we have made, and his health has been stable except for “the cold from abadon” that has made our circle twice now.

    As for the older kids, I really can’t answer that. I know it is rough for them…

    I told Wendy that I would at least post the following story for you…

    God bless each one of you,!

    Mrs. Bane

    Edit: A thank you also goes out to CJ for running a milblog fundraiser for my family. Thank you, CJ.




       

    Bane Had a Lair

    And what a lair it was. For all intents and purposes it was a hideous mess, or at least it had evolved into one. Add chronic illness to an already messy collector and you get a personalized cluster fuck. You could barely get around in there, but that was the way he liked it. He set booby traps that you had to maneuver around to get to him so he wouldn’t be snuck up on. He was terrified that he would react before he knew who it was. The martial arts/military training were real.

    The place did, however, have character, just like he did. The corner he used most held this computer, his desk was cluttered with personal stuff, to include a small turtle collection and a hula girl that graced the cake at his first bachelor party. Nat would giggle when she registered the titties that peeked out from under her grass dress. I didn’t like that so much, but alas, this is about him, rather than me. -Above, hung an original piece of art chalked by Maiden and a picture drawn in junior high by his number two son. To the left was an office type room divider. On it hung an 8x10 picture of the two of us (taken in a booth at the fair in some previous life), and…layers of Nat’s handmade art, covered in hearts, rainbows and rudimentarily drawn family members beyond number. To the right, on his closet door hung a map from a video game, World of Warcraft? and a Punisher poster. Right there were his snacks and treats for the kids, woppers and sour skittles, tigers milk bars and his “special apple juice” and 7up. How many times did they fall for that one before the kids figured out a suck off the top of daddy’s glass was always bad idea?

    Beyond the divider there was a maple gun case, stocked… with a knickknack shelf mounted on one end of it (cluttered with old toys, rubber cars and the like, bank statements and chap stick). He loved toys, and the wall above his T.V. was plastered in a plethora of unopened Todd McFarland creations and others, including “Spawn” and Punisher collections. There were larger pieces in there as well, including several ceramic Punisher busts and a particularly hideous Alien figurine. Just looking at them made him happy.

    There were two jigsaw puzzles mounted on the wall as well. One was assembled by his grandparents during the first year of their marriage. Grandpa had it framed and said that if they could work together on that puzzle, they would surely work together in the future. The other was a Star Wars poster, mounted by his sister. I think his number two and three sons assembled it at her house.

    He had a small reading corner set up too. Next to the chair, were a few boxes of his comics and some of the books on his list, misc. junk and mail, etc.

    There was of course a bed too. Oh how I miss being his Friday… Yes, he really was one amazing lover. (Sorry kids). Sadly, at the end, that bed became a symbol of his lingering illness. Number three son and my little ones and I stabbed it to death with some of his very sharp daggers. The little ones and I drug it down the stairs and out to the dumpster while # three commenced falling apart. I didn’t see him act like himself for months after that.

    We used to refer to life as Mr. Toads Wild Ride. And oh what a ride it was, thus, I always liked the image of the redhead wearing garters near the top left of his blog header.




        Monday, September 22, 2008

    God Has Called Him Home

    Bane passed away this morning surrounded by his family. They have given me permission to let you all know but this will not be the final post. His family will be putting one together so that he can say goodbye to you and so you can say goodbye to him.

    I know a lot of you are aware of what his financial situation was like and I'll be doing a fundraiser to help pay for funeral and hospital expenses. Please don't donate anything into the paypal or amazon accounts because his banking accounts were frozen upon his death.

    I will post the farewell from his family when they give it to me.

    This isn't one of his jokes and I ask that if you comment you are respectful to his wife and kids. Anything else will be deleted immediately.

    He was my friend and I loved him dearly and he will be greatly missed.

    ~LL

    ------------------------

    UPDATE: I have added my paypal account button to the sidebar. I will make sure Bane's family gets the money. If you would like to help them defray the medical costs (he was in the ICU for 3 days and it is going to be a staggering sum), you're welcome to donate at that account. If you are unwilling to use paypal, you can send something to the post office box I set up for him a couple of years ago. You can use the same address for any cards or letters you'd like to send to his family, but I WILL vet them all to make sure nothing inappropriate gets passed along. Checks can be made payable to me and I'll deposit it into the same paypal account.

    Wendy Stewart
    PO Box 583
    Rockford, IL 61105

    Thank you everyone for your kind words to his family. I'm sure they appreciate it.

    UPDATE II: I wanted to publicly thank all of you who donated and sent cards. My apologies for taking so long. I'm not really so rude in real life, I just wasn't sure how to do this. There are so many of you out there who have stepped up and helped Bane's family out and you don't know how much it is appreciated. In the past couple of months, your donations have literally kept his household running. Rent paid, food bought. I know this because I have called his wife to tell her that another couple of donations have come in and she has been on the verge of tears because she's had something or another that needs to be taken care of and this money has arrived literally in the nick of time. I'm trying to balance the privacy line with them because Bane could write all he wanted about his own life, yet I don't have that right. Please know that your donations have made a world of difference. If you check back in the archives in November of previous years, both his younger kids have birthdays close together in mid-November and early December. If you would like to send a card or small gift, you're welcome to do so at the PO box or even leave a comment here with well wishes for the kids. I'll make sure his wife knows what you have to say. She doesn't have a computer (Bane's older kids are mining it for his writings) and she cut out the internet service anyway because she can't afford it and doesn't use it. I plan on printing out all the comments for her, but they keep rolling in so at some point, I'll copy and paste them, mail them off and probably keep tabs for updates on what you have to say to him, to his family, to his kids, and even those moments, like I have, where you just have to come over and say something because you miss him so much.

    Thank you, all. Thank you for your generosity and love and support of his family.




        Thursday, September 18, 2008

    A Walk In The Woods...

    The big man regained consciousness, face down in leaves, in what tuned out to be a verdant forest when he lifted his head. His last memory before coming to here was of a wizened old man saying "Well, have a nice trip, then..." before touching him on the chest with his staff.

    The big man took stock of himself. His guns were gone, along with their holsters. His wide-brimmed hat was gone, but he appeared to still have all of his small blades in place, including the straight razor mounted in a pouch underneath the long black hair at the nape of his neck.

    He spotted his hat. It was being pulled along the forest floor by two small winged humanoid creatures, who kept trying to fly off with it, but the leather was too heavy for them. Then he spotted his sword belt. He'd never seen it before, but he knew it was his.
    All black leather, silver embossed, a long blade with an ebony grip, and a silver skull on the pommel. Its smaller twin, a long dirk, mounted crossdraw on the right side, and a series of throwing daggers mounted on the


    Okay, I got distracted from this, and when I came back I was bored with it. If you want me to finish it, say so. But it likely won't be today. Let me know.




        Wednesday, September 17, 2008

    That's What It's All About...

    The big man threw his contract into the basement room, and followed him in. He was carrying a CD player with cassette capability. His contract scanned the room with frantic eyes...he thought he could get out, escape. The big man was having none of that, so he drew one of his Peacemakers and idly pointed it at him. His eyes focused on that hand cannon, and he settled down.

    "So, let me tell you how things are gonna go..." said the big man. "You murdered the guys daughter. Her favorite song was 'the Hokey Pokey', and he wants you to dance to it until you can't dance anymore, and then I kill you. Personally, I'd beg me to shoot you right now, before this gets any uglier. So, which is it? Bullet? or dance til you drop, and then bullet?"

    The contract croaked "Dance..." and the big man shuddered, knowing the torture he was in for.
    So, he set the player on a table he had brought in, slipped the little girl's favorite tape in, and pressed 'play'. "You put your right hand in, you pull your right hand out..." and so on. Ad nauseum. And this fucker was doing all the moves...he worked with kids a lot. Well, he used to, anyway.

    The big man said to himself, after a bit, 'fuck, I'm never gonna get this song out of my head'. After a while longer, he started thinking about killing the guy right then and there, but he had never violated a straight up contract, and never would. Then he thought about just shooting himself, but he didn't have enough of the right kind of bullets. So, he listened to the Hokey Pokey, and watched it being performed, and after a while, when he saw his first stagger, he dug out the video recorder from a deep pocket of his duster, because the father wanted a record of the end.

    After a while, it came. The guy staggered and went to one knee. He struggled to stand, and the big man was filming it all. He couldn't get up, and stayed there on his hands and knees, whining and drooling like the rabid dog he was. The big man filmed above the gun, and shattered his skull into dramatic pieces.

    He turned off the camera, pulled the tape out, and blew the player into thousands of pieces. He allowed himself a shudder. This contract had been one of his toughest, ever.




       

    The Godess Speaks!

    Go, and worship!




        Tuesday, September 16, 2008

    Terminator IV...

    It stood there in the field where it had been sent, standing naked in a perfectly semi-spherical crater that still smoked and flashes of lightning were just beginning to fade away.

    It had no idea about sex, but its appearance was all male. It looked human, but inside it was a hyperalloy combat chassis - micro processor-controlled, fully armored. Very tough. But outside, it's living human tissue - flesh, skin, hair, blood, grown for the cyborgs...

    And it had drawn attention to itself. All around the field shuffling creatures, smelling meat, shambled towards him, reaching out towards him. He did a combat scan, cataloged them all, evaluated no threat, and turned to leave. Suddenly, a thin smiling man appeared in front of him and smiled, showing sharp, sharp teeth. It turned its head like a dog, and went for his throat in a flash.

    The Terminator stopped him, with a hand to the chest, then pressed in and ripped its heart out. It burst out a mouthful of saliva into the Terminator's face, and the Terminator slapped its head off. He noticed three more things just like this one, standing off at fifty yards, and noticing they were noticed, they turned to run. Bounding at them, he slapped their heads off as well, and stood there and ran a full diagnostic.

    He never felt anything, and now he felt...different. He bent over at the waist, as a wave of nausea took him, and if he could know fear, he would have felt it now. His vision, always acute, had darkened, but he could see further, and with more acuity than his design specifications had allowed for. He could see the glow that comes from living things, the trees were pillars of light.

    And then he felt something bite into his arm, and chew for a bit. He slapped its head off, and its body lay on the ground, its feet churning it into a circle, around, and round. He looked around, and found he was becoming surrounded. He could have destroyed all of them easily, but he would be doing it everywhere he went. He jumped backwards up to the lower branch of of a tree to compute.

    His stomach contracted again, and suddenly he understood what these shuffling beasts wanted...meat. He never ate, unless he was on an infiltration mission, but he wanted to tear apart a human with his teeth and feast on their flesh. He wanted to chase them down and tear their throats out and drink and bathe in their blood. Suddenly, he realized that he had been exposed to two unique viruses, and even as they ravaged his meat-shell, Skynet could weaponize them, and his Mission Directive changed: Secure The Viruses.

    So he tore branches off of the tree, and tossed them down to make a bonfire pile below. Then he tore his chest open, and opened a compartment and pulled out a phosphorous grenade, popped the top and pressed the button, and then dropped it into the woodpile he had made. He checked the temperature to see if it exceeded his design specifications, which it did not, so he jumped into the middle of it.

    His meat began to bubble, and slough away. He used his hands where he could see, and then sat down in the fire to get every piece. The strange vision went away, then the hungers, and finally, he stepped out of the fire, a gleaming, steaming vision of death. The shuffling dead lost all interest, and turned away, off to look for food.

    He opened another compartment in his chest, and brought out a vial. He leapt through the air and came down with the needled vial and stuck it into the base of the spine of the last of the shuffling dead until the tube filled with black blood.
    Then he scanned the field, and there they were, three more of the thin men with sharp teeth. He was on them before they could think to run, and held one down with a hand in its back, while the others fled.

    Remembering its discomfort, the big silver man that was not a man, crushed the creature's head unto the ground, and ripped out its heart.

    With the two vials secure in its chest cavity, it kept going until it found a high cave, and went in. It set its timer to send out a signal to Skynet twenty years in the future, set its defense options, then sat down on a rock and powered down. Its red eyes flickered a bit, then went out.




       

    Wow!

    Go check out Chris Muir's link (click on the cartoon). I wish I could make money like that. Of course, he puts out a worthwhile product. Eat your heart out, Dilbert. Scott Adams couldn't get this sort of response. I hope some of my readers contributed to Chris. What other medium can you contribute directly to the creator of it besides blogging?

    There's days I don't want to get out of bed, but I think of the latest chunk of change I got on PayPal, and roll out of bed, crack my knuckles, and hit the keyboard.

    What a strange thing this blogging be.




        Monday, September 15, 2008

    Wherein Bane Takes A Shower...

    Since shaving has become so difficult for me, I shaved in the sink, whereas I usually use the shower. When I was done, I had to go sit down and catch my breath. I wonder if I broke my back some when I fell. Its been, what, two months?
    I've never hurt this bad for so long before.

    I haven't had a shower since week before last. Even then, the wife gave me most of it, and dried me off, and it still wiped me out enough that she had to help me get dressed. By today, I had become the standard hobos and bums look up to. So I shave, and decide the rest isn't worth it. The wife says 'get in there or I'll put you into a rest home where they can take care of you'. I looked at her and snarled that as long as I had working finger, I would shoot myself before I went into one of those places, and she said 'yeah yeah, in the meantime get your smelly greasy ass in there to the shower so I can wash you up'.

    It might hurt, but I can wash my own fuckin self up. Bitch. And I grumbled my way into the bathroom, and she stood by in case I fell, or needed some help. Then she dried me off. And poked me in the eye while drying my hair. Twice.
    Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I had to come back in my room after she dressed me and do some magazine change drills just to feel like a man again.

    I could still fuck you up if I had to, but it wouldn't be as pretty or neat...no professionalism, just slaughter. And then I'd have to go sit down and take a breather.
    Which is why if you behave yourself, you live. I've been practicing 'Knife Strokes For Fucking Cripples'. All movement comes from the spine, and it is hard to make a decent stroke when yours is fucked up. So I have been carrying my knucks when I (rarely) go out. You can 'set' yourself in a modified Horse stance, and slash with the knucks (believe it or not) and when you see bone (usually a forearm) and crippled them...brought then down to your level, as it were, pull your blade of choice and step in and cut yourself a slice.

    'Course, me bein a crip an all, I'd just pull them into me and use a hammer blow with the knucks on the top of their skull, two or three quick ones, or until I got a cramp, whichever comes first.
    I am old, and crippled, and mean, so do not fuck with me. Yer damn right I have an inferiority complex.

    Wanna make something of it?




       

    This Is My Favorite Song, Ever...

    Adblock
    Sadjoy - Manfred Manns Earthband




        Sunday, September 14, 2008

    Vote For LL's Blog...

    I don't normally do that shit, but she has done so much for me and others, I went through the pain in the ass of signing up on the Milblog Site, then digging through her archives, and then went and voted for her. She's damn well worth it, plus your sexual organs will rot if you don't.

    So go vote. It will add two years to your life.




        Saturday, September 13, 2008

    Heidi Needs Prayer...

    ...for her Dad. So please follow the link and see what it's all about, and then start firing them off.

    Thanks.




       

    Bloody Weather...

    The next several days here are going to be, I believe the proper meteorological term is 'damn fucking hot.' Ugh. I froze my balls off last night in bed. Left my window open, and it got down to 49. I snuggled under quilts, and loved it. I have this dumb idea you can store up on the temperature you want, when it comes around.

    Today, I blew some blood out of my nose into a kleenex. I showed everybody by waving it around, then I asked "Who wants a Raspberry Fruit Roll-up?!" I got to takers, and a couple of gaggers. I chased screaming kids around with it, but when I went to wipe it on the wife, she stuck her hand into the knife drawer and gave me a meaningful look. I backed off.

    Hey, anybody see Geraldo get his bell rung by a piece of flying debris last night on Fox News? Now that's entertainment. I have no sympathy for the residents there. You wanna sit in a bar and party while the wind tosses around pilings like Tinkertoys? Fine. Die. And I wouldn't expend one penny to rescue your dumb ass, either. I've done plenty of crazy stuff in my life, but I've never done stupid.

    I look at the area covered (affected) by Ike, and I can only say sonuvabitch. Where do you run to? I mean, it's gonna affect Chicago, for pity's sake.
    I would buy cigarettes and chew, and sell it to the emergency personnel, and the National Guard. No mark-up. I'd sell beer, and half-pints of whiskey. They'd all love me forever.

    Well, as usual, nothing else is happening in the world as long as this storm bullshit is going on. Or the stupid train. I mean, how many times can that damn train crash? And how many times do we need to see the same pile of rubble on the Galveston shoreline? And you've seen one flood, you've seen them all. Give it a rest, guys.

    Speaking of getting tired of stuff, I have handed out about a million warnings for bad behavior to the kids. And time-outs, and early bedtimes, and they have just been little assholes lately, anyway.
    I hate to use the belt. It makes me feel bad. But they were totally out of hand. Major violations like throwing things in the house. Constant arguing with everything the wife and I said. So Nat was sitting at the top of the stairs with John, and she wouldn't move to let me downstairs, explaining to me that there was plenty of room to get by. So I passed by a sluggish Johnny, and as I got in front of her, I stomped her foot and when she leaned forward, I gave her a good hard slap to the side of her jaw which I am sure made her see birdies. John scooted back out of the way as fast as he could.

    I explained to them both that I was tired of being nice, and talking, and this was going to happen every time they pissed me off or were disrespectful to their mother, from now on. They were both remarkably well-behaved for the rest of the afternoon.




        Friday, September 12, 2008

    Friday Ass...







       

    Good, Die, You Dumb Bitch...

    Stories like this just warm the cockles of Bane's little black heart.

    Excuse me while I wag...




        Thursday, September 11, 2008

    September 11th...

    I'm not gonna do some smarmy tribute to the victims of that day. Sure, there were some heroic actions, but mostly, people died screaming, or in big wet splats after jumping. We had been being warned for years by experts that it was coming, but Bill Clinton was too busy getting his candle waxed to pay attention.

    I just find the whole thing unutterably sad. It's like watching one of our great naval warships, holed through the side by enemy torpedoes, groan, and list, and then turn over and slip to the bottom with all hands. Where they sleep forever, our beloved dead.

    That day in September forever rocked our world. Nothing has been the same since, and it will forever be so. It has divided Americans into deniers, people who don't care and just want a false sense of security, without making any sacrifice, and patriots.

    Which one are you?