Go to the bottom of the page for newest date. In the near future I hope to have the archives turned right side up, so you can read them from top to bottom.




You know, working in a cubicle isn't that different from the bittersweet way it's depicted in certain films and commercials. I make a habit of not watching shows that seem to have cheery, non realistic office workers as charachters. Speaking from experience I can attest to the fact that they are jolly on days where they bring food in for a potluck and before long weekends, but most of the time it's just people toiling.

I can't write about my current job, but I can point out that I have to deal with problems even Mike Judge isn't aware of. On a daily basis, I have to deal with normal gas emission from my ass. Now, I only eat a solid meal once per day during my work season and supplement that with cookie bars and juice and vitamins. I don't eat bean burritos from taco hell or pickled eggs. Still, even though I intake bland food and have very little gas I'm only human and as a species when we need need to fart, it backs up in us. Where in the hell are you supposed to break wind in a work area with no excess space?

The bathrooms are all a long walk away. If you've got real nerve I suppose you just let it fly sitting in your desk chair, but Damn; what if somebody chooses that moment to come to your cubicle for a talk about your performance or a fund to replace somebody's hail damaged trailer? In my sordid past as a wreckless youth I'd brazenly fart in my cubicle and in elevators, but the new mature and responsible me can't do it. I periodically go to the goddamn mens room or hold it in for a break outdoors, whereupon I fart like I'm in a Howard Stern contest.

I'm also aware of the potential humiliation I'd feel if I was caught seriously picking my nose by a manager or co-worker. I have no idea what others do, but my bougars just accumulate usually until I'm driving home. I'm lucky that traffic is light when I drive home past midnight. I can pick like mad and drive with one hand. My problems are greatly reduced as an office worker being employed where I can wear almost anything and I don't have to shave or have some trendy hair-do.

I just buy a shitload of black sweat pants at the fatguy store and usually buy plain black T-shirts. I never cut the sleeves off of these office job T's. I could, but don't. Just in case I rip the ass open in the middle of a shift and just in case somebody hurls on me or we're caught in a diarhea rain I have a bag in my trunk with a complete change of clothing and a traveler of Beam in case I wind up in a hotel due to inclement weather. These pre-cautions enable me to focus entirely on my damn work. UUrrppp. The end.


For a goddamn long time I've been annoyed by the litigation happy nature of humanoids here in our fair land. I've been in favor of serious tort reform. It sickens me that troubles in schoolyards and bars that used to be decided by a direct trip to fist-city must be dragged out in courtrooms and prevailed over by p.c. attorneys and sleazy, judges. It is what I call the alibi-syndrome. It has become automatic to have yer excuse ready at work, home and in public places. The most obvious place we see this enacted is in the white house press room. Doesn't it seem strange to anybody but me the fact that the president not only has a staff lead by a spokesperson to spew out excuses for him, but that we the taxpayers foot the bill?

The 2 party political game has already almost destroyed our country, this alibi crap where no one will accept the blame they deserve without a fucking fight is finishing us off. The humiliating national press agent excuse routine has trickled down to the State and local level.

It's considered by fans of politics and parties as legit; I saw bull fucking shit!! All of you peckerheads think it's some sort of game, nodding in acceptance when it's one of your sides jackasses having excuses expressed on his or her behalf and predictably working up a livid attiytude when it's the other side. Our country is in big, big fucking trouble. No amount of good intentions, good will, hugs and feel good drivel will fix it. No reference to the founding Fathers or quote from the bible will mend the damage. Unless they quit with the damn excuses and start facing up to failures as a party or office holder, we're going down the crapper.

It's spread to the point where alibi's are second nature after some son of a bitch pulls some stupid act that should get them tossed out of school or fired or jailed. All they need is some paid mouthpiece ambulance chaser whining about their sad childhood, or their lack of lunchmoney. When cause oriented creeps are caught bending laws or burning the othersides offices down or spreading exaggerations and truths deliberately, if you get caught trying to levy your opinion and cause on the rest of us, you'll have an excuse, acceptable to too many. If some boss is caught double dealing some employees or applicants, some excuse will be offered rather than the asshole stepping up and taking his goddamn medicine. Have you ever heard a boss apologize and take the blame, as being the one at the top and therefore responsible? It's an outmoded concept. It used to be common, but has become rare. Always being ready to "cover your ass" is a workplace mantra. Right? Nothing gets fixed anymore.

Fat people have excuses for their eating. Built-in. Employees who do a shitty job aren't terminated; they plead "nobody told me!" and are kept in positions they can't handle, causing businesses to suffer who provide things like air travel and food for us. On a recent trip, myself and 50 others were stranded in a strange city far, far from home by absolute bullshit procedures and red tape. They all were handy with their alibi's and therefore immune to any re-education and spared any responsibility or discipline or training. Nobody would fucking take responsibility and stand up or even meet our gazes when we needed help. Whether you love or hate Ayn Rand's work (I love and hate portions) you have to admit the society she envisioned was spot on. Everything falling apart in the transportation world. Government and private businesses free-falling service quality wise. Call up your cable company and ask for help, you'll get excuses. Call your local politician, alibi's. Presidents and senators are as bad as pizza delivery outfits. We're all fucked, unless something happens to turn this around. This is my new pet peeve. From here on, if you start telling me your excuse, I'll give you two upraised middle fingers, stonecold style and remind you that I want an answer, not an alibi. Fuck you; don't even think one up. Just fix things and keep your trap shut, fool.


I can't write about work, but I can make the observation that it's a hell of a lot more exhausting to work a seasonal job that runs most of the year than to work at some 9-5 forever, day office shift routine. Seasonal workers are hired to get a job done and then vanish for awhile until the next season. Seasonal workers tend to work harder and really throw themselves into the work on a daily basis. Drones who are facing daily work until they turn 65, er..67, well maybe 71, you know what I mean.

There's no sense busting your ass. No sense of urgency; pace yourself. I work with plenty of people who work much of the year and keep their spirits up and a spring in their step by focusing occasionally on what they're gonna do in the off-season. For hordes of them, this includes casino gambling and loafing somewhere. It's kind of funny to see seasonal workers and daily year round slaves with no hope chat. It becomes obvious that the lifers with little time off have often become so used to having a job to report to that they have no hobbies or interests, beyond the usual yard martyr idiocy.

I worked for a quarter century off and on with that breed. I don't have much use for people who can't find something to do in their spare time away from making money for somebody else. I make exceptions for people who own the businesses and employ the year round toilers. Many of them are able to golf or travel or gamble or do something artsy because they have grunts working year round for them. I understand them and salute them. Bravo. What are you? A seasonal who likes to hustle for part of the year and use the rest? Or a boring type who prefers using a job as a security blanket? Or, are you one of those eternal teenagers who live in mom's basement?Urp? More power to ya. Work with what seems right until it seems like its time for a change of pace, if you haven't deadened your mind so much you don't recognize it.


Long term readers here know very well about my dislike and distrust of the Republican and Democratic parties. I can't think off hand of one single donkey or elephant I trust. During the last election season, I found myself growing steadily further from the Libertarian options. Sitting here tonight, pondering a potential government shutdown in less than 24 hours, I'm ready to declare to the world that I am a one-man political party. It's gone beyond my disagreements with the Pauls lending credence to wack-job conspiracy theorist. John Stossel seems to be losing it, possibly as a delayed reaction to the bitch slap he got from David Schultz. I can't listen to the man whine about school vouchers five minutes more for the rest of my life. The Libertarians have decreased on an intellectual level, in a manner parallel to their growth and influence in American politics.

Remember how ECW came along and shook up the wrestling world? WWE and WCW were forced to retool as a result of their brilliance. Many political science theorist believe that there are crucial problems that are facing the US, that only some genius not beholden to the Republicans or Democrats can solve. Neither party will voluntarily deal with the looming Social Security crisis. Both parties would probably gladly welcome a benevolent dictator waving a magic riding crop and dealing with the situation. I am using that issue as an example. There are many other problems, that the two parties are afraid to touch. They just plain don't want to risk their party's popularity, by making un popular decisions. I used to think, some wise Libertarian was gonna come along and straighten shit out.

These days I think its a remote long shot that the savior who can come along and clean up American politics is going to be associated with the Libertarians. I'm afraid that as a party, they've jumped the shark like Fonzie. Hundreds of years from now, if History is still taught in American schools, the Libertarian party will be a blip, probably featured in a sentence about Ross Perot. I can only hope that my one man party can display a greater measure of common sense and a sense of humor, than the terminal Libertarian party has shown. Rest in peace baby.


I'm truly enjoying my commute from our home in the north end of San Antonio to South Austin. I haven't gotten sick of Howard too many times. 2 hours a day of Phil Hendrie would work too for that matter. Sirius needs to sign him. I've really learned about modern day motorists and their predilictions. Since I want to drive fast, but I don't want speeding tickets I've planned my speed and strategy out just like a chess game, just like I plan out almost every fucking thing like a chess plan now, down to toilet rolls and planning weeks ahead on vitamins and cookie bars and having a weeks worth of beer handy when possible, just in case. I have a change of clothing in my car, along with a traveler flask.

Anyway, the shitheads who bug me the most these days drive those creepy little Clark Howard sanctioned little pieces of shit that look like spam cans on wheels. They're "mini coopers". I fucking hate those goddamn things. I hate small cars anyway, I wouldn't drive one of those for free gas and a couple extra hours pay. The bastards who drive those fucking things are the absolute worst tailgaters, just a bit ahead of the jacked up pickup trucks (always driven by spoiled male, jocko-homo students who don't have a goddamn thing to haul).

The cooper drivers, 2 or 3 times a day, get on my ass in the left lane and do everything to get my attention, flash their lights, weave back and forth, at least 2 or 3 of them every commute in. My nightly commute is on a blessed barren post midnight interstate. Their big problem is the fact I'm only going 4 or 5 miles over the limit; they seem to have some juvenile urban myth understanding that I'm supposed to get out of the way of snotty little fools who act childish and drive stupidly. I really, really don't want to hear their side of it; I'm above them. I'm better than them and my black Dodge charger with the tint job makes their clown-mobiles look stupid.

Fuck them. I have to drive 65 miles each way, I can't risk going faster. Most of the 20 something rubes driving the stoopers are on the freeway for maybe 15-20 miles. A conflict of interest? Ahh, fuck 'em. I don't dignify them as having interests and feelings akin to mine. I never, ever give them the satisfaction of acknowledging their tailgating and horn and gestures. Remember! There's no sweeter road revenge than to make some little spoiled mamas boy feel helpless, because he wasted his time trying to annoy me. I've gotten really good at ignoring them and staring in a cold fish deadpan manner as they pass me pissed off, trying to give me the double finger and scream obscenities to piss me off. Sorry college chucklehead, I didn't notice your tantrum. 2 or 3 cooper peckerwoods I get per drive in. Their cars are always a color shade of piss or babypoo. What's with that? Ahh, I'm sure I have relatives somewhere who own the damn things, well they're excused. They are on my level and I recognize their existence. Not so the little pinpricks I enjoy frustrating everyday.


Yep, I can't write here about work. I can say my work season, which used to be short is now going to run most of the year. I have a damn challenging computer oriented job. I'm commuting 65 miles each way daily for the job. It hasn't been a bad thing considering how I work a night shift. It's tough sometimes to have a clear head with the wave of death and disease running through my family and circle of acquaintances.

If I was still in san mucous I would be feeling much worse. In San Antonio there is a cities worth of urban activities catering to adults, not know it all, spoiled college jerkoffs and ditzes. One of the greatest things we've done since living in a real city is go to real wrestling: Branded Outlaw Wrestling. It's a dandy little promotion. The hall is comfy, every seat is great and the concession stand is priced for blue collar folks. The wrestlers have tables they sell their merch at and you can actually get to the stuff and look it over. ECW arena was bigger, but much more crowded.

Don Owen's cards at the Portland sports arena were often hectic and jammed with people trampling over each other. B.O.W. features some guys from sports entertainment occasionally, but the emphasis is on original product from a crew of local guys from what I can tell. The strong suit as far as I can say after a couple cards is the way they book and blend matches the old proven way, big guys, agile guys, medium guys, all of them telling stories with their work in the ring.

Sometimes it really blows my mind how classic and old school it is. Let me point out how it's not a bunch of old guys trying to make a last buck in the ring. It exudes vigor and as Marla says, it's not just some guys going through the motions. We took grandson Henry for his first card, an Irwin tradition of magnitude. He's just a bit over 2. He was scared of the first few minutes of the first match, but he caught on within 5 minutes, thanks to the fact that the audience was hussing for a competitor; I've been hussing with him for a frigging year! He began to just blend in with the rest of our group, realizing no matter what he yelled nobody was going to shush him.

There were fans in front of him who were jostling us all a bit now and then, but it didn't bother Hank. By the time the last match started and a wrestler came to the ring to an ACDC tune (one of his Pa's favorite bands of course) he was headbanging all on his own, nobody was egging him on, as Marilyn pointed out later. Shit, he's got magnificent genes, not just our amateur pro-wrestling loving ways, but remember, one of my nephews was a world class Greco-Roman grappler representing the marine corp national team. Anyway, even though some non wrestling fan relations aren't too thrilled about all the hussing he's doing daily now, we'll be taking him again soon and before you know it, he'll be a regular. Go Hank. UUrrp.

Next time I'll fill y'all in on some of the specific guys on the B.O.W. roster. 08/18/13 I'm going to miss our friend Cosmo. He wasn't just an ex-band mate. Our relationship was much deeper than many mutual friends might figure, due to the fact that we wrote quite a few songs together. It was a very complicated relationship in ways, but we were on good terms up to the end of his time here on earth. I'd like to point out right off that quite a few people in Philly warned us to not get involved with Howard.

He, shall we say, lived large and left some ex-friends behind, here and there. It was sometimes hard to be his friend. He loved to bust balls. Marla and I saw quite a few times over the years people having their feelings hurt by one of his vicsous barbs. Some people he really hammered away at, while others were completely left alone. I have no idea what his rational was , but I quickly figured that surviving one of his barrages of insults was often the precursor to a friendship with Cosmo. Marla says it was his way of testing people; if you were thin skinned he didn't respect you. I guess Marla is qualified to have an opinion on the matter as a band member, she went back and forth with him, just as often as I.

Yes, it's true, they had a kick fight on stage. It was part for real, but also plain good theater as they both recognized at the time.Some people think that because Cosmo attacked me on the Internet in various parlors of gossip, that we were enemies. I'd like to clear the air and point out that much of that was also brandished as good theater. That's not to say we didn't get pissed off at each other once in a while. Howard was jolly and peachy with some folks away from the music scene.

He was a man of depth with many interest. Quite a few of which I wasn't privy to. I just spent some time on FB looking at pictures of Howard being happy around happy people. Our personal relationship began as a musical partnership. He didn't climb up on that stage to express cheer and good vibes, that's the realm I knew him best in. I look back very fondly at practice sessions that would begin with 15 minutes of scathing insults back and forth. It not only toughened the band up, it simply raised the energy and intensity levels. We deeply valued Cosmo's talent for taunting an audience. As a bona fide wrestling manager, he was a natural for a band that had been performing wrestling songs for ten years before he even joined us.

Our first shows with Cosmo his powers proved to be too strong. Club owners were pulling the plug in five minutes. We wouldn't even get to play more than two songs, so we developed a strategy, about waiting well into the set to incite a riot perhaps. Some of you might think "inciting a riot" is an exaggeration. Huh, that's exactly what happened at an all ages show in a Philly 'burb. Cosmo destroyed a table and a sea of kids responded by destroying a lodge hall. His mouth was very powerful, it not only could get us into trouble. He also was expert at sweet talking authorities.

The cops got called on us plenty of times. Sometimes I accompanied him to wrestling gigs he worked. He would piss people off there too of course. They'd be so mad they sometimes waited outside for him. Yes he had some human weaknesses, but he was good as what he did. That elevates him above most of you humanoids.

He was a fascinating guy who made his damn mark. I certainly can't do him justice here, I intend to write a good deal more about him in the future. He's truly traveling the space waves from planet to planet. Cosmo hated being around being around drunks, but he made an exception in my case. He would appreciate the way the current Rancid Vat band members were hoisting a few in his name, just last night.


Over the last few weeks I've had to deal with dental horse shit. The story deserves to be told, there is a happy ending, but it's too fresh a bad experience for me to lay down in this entry. I have a work day tomorrow and don't need to relive the trauma.

Sometimes it's convenient for writers and other artist to let their rage buoy a project. Not tonight thank you. A happy thought has been running through my brain. It struck me that even dullards are capable of having quirky passions and interest. I'd say near one hundred percent of humanoids who I actually like are really into something. It might be steadily holding down a barstool, never missing a day. It might be fly fishing or rolling tamales, I admire old grannies who keep canning preserves and pickles and other crap to eat like efficient machines.

Even disgusting hippies often have passionate hobbies you wouldn't expect such as bowling or restoring antiques. As a tournament chess player, I really respect, competitors. Sudoku doesn't count! Bridge, tavern softball, foosball, and of course golf are hobbies that will lead to my tipping my hat to you. Let's not forget folks with worthy boners for films and TV shows.

My daughter-in-law is really into Gone with the Wind. I once worked with a guy who had a super medal winning Batman collection. I'm tickled by obsessions for cute little animal figurines. Haven't we all met somebody who has to hoard every pig or cow figurine they see? What the hell, it's nice to see people declaring themself to be really be into something rather than being so dull, they can only sit around and whine.

Even though I think some obsessions are a bit tedious, I can't fault folks who see something in it. Crocheting, macramé, glass blowing or automotive crap.would all bore me to tears, but are respectable. I'm not so goddamned open minded about all human quirks. Star Wars crap should be confiscated and burned in bon fires. Soccer collectables should be seized from impressionable youths and similarly destroyed.

Beanie Baby's are not quite the most worthless thing to collect, The honor of the most worthless past time goes to a group of perves I heard about on the Stern show. These are the kooks wanking off to 'My Little Pony" bullshit. Recently, 4000 of them assembled in a well hidden venue to swap their wares with other bro's, calling it a "Broni-con." I've never heard of a more worthless religion or time wasting genre of music. Collecting milk bottle caps seems worthless to me but I applaud it, compared to the Broni jackasses.uuurrpp.


I'm not supposed to have any fresh observations at my age. Here comes a doozy. The media, both mainstream and alternate, reflect on the fabric of the USA and most of the other nations of the world. In a blatantly ignorant manner, most of my mt favorite writers don't have clue, when it comes to defining who Americans are.

Likewise, the hoard of writers I hate are just as clueless. I've had a belly full, of listening to New York City based communicators telling the world what its like "down south" and down here in Texas. Its no better when Southern populist get started pissing and moaning about New York City.

Speaking of Texas, Where I have lived for 11 years now, there is no such thing as a typical Texan. Either demographic wise or ethnically speaking, I listen to Stern 10 hours a week and consider him pretty informed on most topics. When it comes to him passing judgment over "fly over country," he 's as dumb as the tards on the show, he lampoons. When he picks up the liberal mantra about crackers down south, it must be either an intentional ploy, or he's a lot dumber than I've always thought.

But wait a minute! I'm not picking on Howard here. Virtually everybody I read or listen to is even more in the fog than him.*I make fun of Californians, but I'll be the first to tell you there are no typical Californians. I make fun of those pig farmers and food stamp lovers back in Boregon, but I generalize greatly. I'm admitting it here and now. At one point in this entry, I began to generalize about New Yorkers. See how hard it is to stay focused on the truth! I've never met a cab driver, bartender, or mill worker, who wasn't ready to generalize about their fellow Americans. Women do it, conservatives do it, liberals do it.

In fact you can learn a lesson by noting the similar way in which lefties and righties pass judgment. Their generalizing and simplifying things with buzz words such as "Fly over country," or Jew York City. Maybe amusing , but certainly shouldn't be taken seriously on an intellectual level.

Do you hate Rednecks?? Do you hate Paki's? Preppies? Tree huggers? Floridians? How much of your animosity is based on intelligent observation , and how much have you picked up from opinionated blowhards, posing as pundits? Concerned about Trevon? Are you likewise concerned about females not being able to walk down an overwhelming percentage of streets in our nation and not feel nervous?

Virtually every community in our fair land seems uncomfortable to other groups of people passing through. I'll give a personal example here, since I been conditioned to be a humanoid as well. I've lived in the South for eleven years, almost every where I've been I've felt comfortable. I love Dixie.

| I gotta admit, driving though small towns in Alabama one time, I started feeling very unsettled. All the church steeples and locals glaring at me and my out of state license plate gave me the heebie-jeebies. This is before I moved to Texas. Now as a proud Texan, I display the spirit of the Republic openly and am ready for a negative reaction. They love us in some places but hate us in many more.

I play hundreds of internet chess games. Its customary to greet your opponent when the game begins. My favorite line to distract my my opponents is "greetings from Texas." I've found that Aussies dig us. Folks from the UK and Germany are often very friendly, So, how would you expect Iranians and Palestinians to respond to my Texas greeting?

A few of them don't respond at all. But most of them seem to admire my candidness. It would be unwise to generalize about how those folks are supposed to hate us. We are fools to generalize about people from other countries, even though they generalize about us. *What do you think of people from Boston? Mormons? Catholics?

The bottom line is there are no absolutes when it comes to regional populaces, ethnic groups or so-called "classes". Don't give me your bullcrap about the vile rich or the lazy poor. If you take the time to research these things and travel around your nation, you will learn how right I am. Hate feminist? Holy Rollers? Nebraskans? *Is everybody really boring in Iowa? Has anything good ever come from there? How about Montana? Go find out for yourself!! UUUUrrp. Dismissed.


I don't exactly know when facebook will come crashing down, I'd give it three years--maybe. I think it's vital even though, I'm not a fan of social media. To take advantage of it's good aspects, if you're in a band and you're doing land office business with merch and at the box office, you need to convert the customer data so you're band won't crash and burn that glorious day we all try to login at the beloved f.b. website and are directed to a big ad for something we don't want AGAIN.

This will mean that the social aspect of social media has been rendered obsolete. Don't say I didn't warn you. How about you folks who count on facebook to keep in touch with relatives and friends. Just like band people, you'd better make a good old fashioned paper copy of your contact info.

Now I'll admit that the best thing about F.B. is the way it has connected me people I've fallen out of touch with. Just today, I've been contacted by good ol' Eric Flawless. Conversely the worst aspect, well one of them, is the way this obnoxious site has become so intrusive. It wants to tell me, who to be friends with! The odoriferous side of F.B. lies there in. Several times my frau and I have been horrified to see enemies, coworkers and various blast from the god's ass, one click away, it's like a goddamn sci-fi nightmare. The bad 90% of social media far out weighs the oblivious 10%.

Now that I've given you all this advise, I'll back out of here; it's time to reconnect with ol' Eric Flawless. Urpppp.


Back when I was a kid in my early teens, I thought I was hot shit over the chess board. I won my share of prizes in local tournaments and still cherish a trophy declaring me the "top 14 year old" at the 1971 US Junior Open. If I hadn't been more interested in having some fun after leaving my parent's house for the last time at the age of 18, I more than the likely would have achieved the rank of Master, that is, providing I got ahold of some decent chess books or taken some lessons. I've never taken a lesson in my life, which is a severe handicap.

There were damn few quality chess books to be found in that little burg know as Snoreland Boregon. I read dozens of mediocre works by authors geared towards writing corny books for perennial loser chess geeks.

Looking back I can easily identify a small handful of top notch books from which I learned most of what I could about the game. The most valuable book without a doubt was My System by Aaron Nimzowitsch, it was recommended to me by my local chess hero, Mike Montchalin who indeed went on to become a powerful master and was the state champion more than once.

The book is still held in high esteem by today's top grand masters. As much as many of us loved My System, nobody knew much about the author, except for some wild stories. Nimzowitsch was said to have jumped up atop of a chess table when it was time to resign a game from where he bellowed: "why must I lose to this idiot." That is the story as I had been told back then.

Now come on that seems pretty cool to even you non-chess players doesn't it?! At the beginning of this year, I finally got a hold of a book about Nimzowitsch published in 2012. It won various "book of the year" awards around the chess world. It's official title: Aaron Nimzowitsch On the Road to Chess Mastery, 1886-1924, by Per Skjoldager and Jorn Erik Nielsen. The work is deeply researched, the authors have gone to great lengths to explore many rumors about Nimzo circulated over a hundred years. I was shocked personally to learn that Nimzo's personal creed in life was much like my own.

On our very first record lyric sheet, there is a slogan "inspired by enemies," Nimzowitsch came to realize that his brilliant book would never have been written if he was not trying to answer back to his enemies in the chess world. An old German chess author Dr. Tarrasch ridiculed the younger Aaron repeatedly. In other eras they might have actually settled it with a duel, instead Nimzo went on to write one of chess's best books. After this was accomplished he shrugged off the old doctor's criticisms. He actually realized the Old fart had done him a favor.

Nimzo was fond of crazy new chess ideas. You non-players should think of of creative football plays as being analogous. He refused to be restricted by stubborn jack asses. To quote Nimzo: "for the talented, however, no rules exist." What a cool guy. He also bravely stood up to the Bolsheviks, but that another story. Isn't it great when a childhood hero turns out to be even cooler than you thought. Fishcer was shitheel Nimzo rules!. urpppgh 07/07/13Dear Diary

What a full four day weekend I've had. On the fourth, son,daughter-in-law and grandson came over, there was swimming, and El and I filled and then drained my BodyGlove beer cooler.

I spent much of the other days, seeking out thrift and book stores here in our new home town. I even made it to the Bandera strip where the US honky tonk was first implemented. That stretch of road is akin to the streets that role through Harlem they seem just like streets today, but shit, scores of icons have graced those strips just a few decades ago.
Having unpacked about 4000 albums Saturday night, seemed to be perfect for our first night on the town as San Antonio residents. We wound up at a club on St.Mary's, The Mix, where we were told a veteran Iggy/60's psych band Sons of Hercules was booked to entertain.

We got a table by the "stage" and began inbibbing with Beer, Marilyn and seemingling a multitude of their aquaintences. The Sons bashed out a really good set, of course most bands, just bore the hell out of me right off. Not so with these guys.

Over the years living in Hollywood and all, we've seen our share of legendary bands that play that circuit, yunno, Brian Jones 'do's and Rickenbacker guitars. These guys really have it down, just a great energy level. I managed to get drunk, but not so drunk, I forgot anything. Lemme tell ya, LoneStar on tap is like nectar, I kept the Devil's Cut shots to a few. Sitting there I realized the evening was symbolic, yes I truly I did survive San Marcos, we made our escape, we can go out and see classy infamous bands anytime we want, we don't have to hang around boring meat markets or settle for derivetive small town bands. As for a comparison the night life between Austin and San Antonio, our pal Beer summed it up well: he says in Austin people go out to see bands so they can say they saw the band and be seen, in San Antonio people go out to see a band and have a good time. This may seem like a picky diffrence, but actually, it means quite alot.

The clubs in Austin charge an arm and a leg for admission and for booze. The craftiest club owners know just like I do, that the Austin music scene is mostly a Texas myth, that they can cash in on, only until the word gets out. The over priced snotty shitholes of Austin will soon implode like a rotted Longhorn skull.


Here are a few of my least favorite popular terms: you will note, most were conceived of without exception to convey a positive warm fuzzy meaning, bottom line for me, most of these notions make me sick to my stomach. "Americana" I read just tonight somewhere, that even Dale Watson hates it. I expose it for post hippie folk drivel in my country book. "Americana" is supposed to be some sort of smart genre, for clever listeners/NPR types. I agree with Dale, you can't take the 'neck attitude out of country. "Green" Your president dragged the green hoax into the limelight this past week. I trust him and Al Gore and the UN finger wagging greens on a level with vacuum cleaner saleman, aluminum siding canvassers, and faith healer TV evangelist. It's not about the environment, its about some smarmy progressives cashing in at everyone else's expense.*

Lite Beer. An ancient rant here. Originally diet beer for fat ex-jocks, now it's mainstream meatmarket swill. My favorite term for beer I like is "corporate beer," which applies to my fave domestic and imports. Starter Home equals cramped crackebox. "Trending now." Short attention grabbing blurbs. If you're too stupid for other forms of media,, let yourself be enlightened on insipid water cooler bullshit.

Device. A bad term from an industry that could come up with a better one. **"Like us on facebook." Pure groveling whether it be from a band, a muffler service, or aluminum siding canvassers.**Secular Humanist. As an avid atheist/agnostic I wish I had the time to research who thought that one up. My guess would be Sean Hannity or one of his guest.


RIP James Gandolfini.

For so many goddamned years TV has been worthless or rather, it was stuck in a tedious, long dry spell. Up until cable original programs began to seemingly bust their asses trying to compete to provide classic shows. I'm not talking shows on a par with drivel-coms that make me heave. I'm talkin' shows that rank with the best golden age television, such as the Twilight Zone, Rifleman, Gunsmoke, The Fugintive, Perry Mason, Hawaii 5-O (the original) and Dragnet.

The Sopranos was a show that blew my fucking mind. I had hesitated before watching it, because TV shows had sucked for damn long time. Likewise, it took me awhile before caving in and watching Breaking Bad, which I simply figured had to be incredibley over touted.I figured how in this age, could a show be one of the best ever of all time. It just didn't' fucking compute. I watched Sons of Anarchy and Mad Men from their pilots on. I'm not sure why I was less hesitant about those two. Furthermore, even after years of watching SOA, I still had to be dragged by the ear to check out the Sheild. What was I thinking??? The Shield is as good a cop show as any from the 20th century. Bottom line I've told most of my friends and family members abouut the above shows. I check back occasionally to see if they've watched them.

Most of the time, they simply doubt that thsese showe could be any good since they are wildly praised.They drag their feet. Oddly enough about 80% of the time, whenever anybody I direct towards watching the wave of the best cable network origninals gives them a shot, they become apostles themselves.

So what does this have to do with James Gandolfini. His brilliant performance pointed the way for the writers and show runners of the great shows of the 21st century. Ask Kurt Sutter, Bryan Cranston or John Hamm, if they think the Sopranos was a milestone. Uuuurrpp! Just quit being a stubborn jackass and give these cable-wave shows a try. Please report any broken links to whiskeyrebel1@yahoo.com


Welcome back to one diary that will not quit. As discussed here over the last few months, we moved 40 miles to San Antonio. Where our old internet provider doesn't show its maggot encrusted face. Centurytel is absolutely worthless. Their non-service is one area they excell in. Its great to be free from them, but unfortunately there was no way of posting new website info before we ditched them. Get on the horn and call your friends and neighbors, spread the word that the Whiskey Rebel Diary was only playin' possum.

Living in a real city, I'll have a hell of lot more to write here about. We're going to plug it on Facebook, which we have avoided for a few reasons. One of them I will confront here and now. The content here over the years would offend just about anybody at sometime or other. Most of my political ramblings are directly meant to piss off party loyalist and cause devoted extreemist.

For the longest time I never had to be concerned with relatives taking my crazy rants too seriously. Since locating my blood relatives, I haven't changed my opinions, unlike the rest of you riff raff, some of them will journey here from Facebook because they love me and want to get to know me better.

I must say, it really is ballsy for me to reveal so much of my life past and present. I'm not the least uninhibited, there are pleanty of things I rarely discuss. But quite a few of the Internet journal scribes reveal very little negative stuff about themselves. Bottom line, relatives: you have been warned!! **Ninety-nine-point-nine of the rest of you can go suck a sour egg.

One more things at this time in my life, I have a job, that I'm very happy at that I can't write about on the Internet. If you want to find out what I'm up to and why the mystery, email me: whiskeyrebel1@yahoo.com.

This is being updated at a hotel in Vegas. I've just spent two long days banging away over the chess board. Unfortunately I'd like to write a damn long entry here to make up for a couple of blank weeks, but we're too exhausted. We're going to go eat at the Peckermill--errr that's Peppermill, on the strip. After that its going to be a long night of cocktailin' and wagering at the Circus Circus and Slots of Fun across LV Blvd. ** Meanwhile, there's well over 10 years of vaulted entries for you to wear your eyes out on. Don't forget, call your friends and neighbors and if it seems right, call your enemies and tell them to feast their eyes on the resusitated Whiskey Rebel Diary.


Having a great time in Vegas. Slots, chess, free booze. What more could anyone ask for. We were wondering if we were ever gonna make it though. We were lulled into thinking it would be an easy trip. The cab Marla ordered online arrived at 2pm on the dot. Got us to the airport from our new home in less than 15 minutes. Nice, we used to be 45 minutes from either airport (Austin or San Antonio).

First delay, flight was 15 minutes late taking off. I was sweating bullets, we only had an hour between plans in Dallas. Get to Dallas and make a bee-line for our gate, only to find out the flight had been delayed an hour. Great, all that worrying for nothing. Get settled in for our hour extra wait. We keep checking the reader board, and after the umpteenth time of checking on it, our flight shows CANCELLED.

What the fuck!! By this point a long line had formed at the desk of our gate. We waited in line for a couple of minutes before coming to our senses, and realized there was a desk one gate over with no line. Marla quickly went over to see if they could get us on another flight, while I held our place in line. She soon motioned for me to come to the desk. We were in luck, got booked on the next flight to Vegas, which was to leave in an hour.

Only one problem, the lady was quoting the original time, the modified time was an hour an half later. We were supposed to be leaving DFW at 6:20 pm, and now were looking at 9pm. I was doubting if we'd ever get out of Dallas. Time for a back up plan. Rent a car and drive to Winstar?

After much hand wringing and nashing of teeth, we got on the plan . Landed in Vegas at 10:30 only 3 hours late. Waited in a long line to get the shuttle bus. Waited in a long line to rent the car. Finally got to the Riviera. Got into the room. Decent room, especially considering it was comped. Was it worth it?? Well if we were going through all that to go to someplace else---like Portland the answer would be a resounding NO. But when you're going to Vegas.....Yeah.


We went up to Ass-town to see Antiseen and Hellstomper last night. It really did remind me of the feeling I had each time I've met with large numbers of new and old relatives, by blood. The cornball cliche about how you pick your friends but you're stuck with your relatives is mostly true. At the club, we met up with Jeff and Joe who I met for the first time in the late '80's. That's pretty damn long for a friendship.

We've known Allen and the other Antiseen guys for plenty long also. Kerry Clayton, whom I first saw wearing diapers, was there selling merch. She's got more ink than I do. It was Texas so I expected to see Jeff Skipski, but holy shit our old pal from Philly CJ Price was there. I had forgotten that before we were in person pals, he saw the early Hellstomper perform while stationed in Tennessee. A mind blowing miracle, was seeing Eric Perfect playing drums with Hellstomper. We spilled plenty of blood and sweat with him over the years for sure.

Every time I turned around, there was somebody I knew. Russ Ward I first met when he was a pink cheeked youth, now he's got college aged kids.As usual when I go out in public, I met some people in person whom I had only corresponded with. John Stewart turned out to have a helluva beard. I pumped hands with Colin from Colorado, and even Scott from Snoreland. These bands attract folks from all over the hemisphere.

I yakked with at least a dozen Texans. All in all, I was offered drugs four times (no thanks) and had my picture taken with my share of fans. It was a good night in spite of the fact that club was too cheap to provide real bathrooms. A couple FOUL sanolets were sticking up the merch area. We found ourselves sitting in the only two chairs in the club, just down wind of them. I felt bad when we left, because I don't have the social skills to work the room and say goodbye properly to everybody. I really do hate goodbuys. I'm not even very good at the hello's. I am glad that I have enough of a life left that even though I don't have many local friends, I have plenty of them all over the map. Uuurrrp.

I'm actually very lucky to have wound up with a batch of blood relatives that I met in adulthood; I would have truly chose them.


My latest source of misery; all night long at work I have to deal with multiple computer programs constantly in a state of timing themselves out, if I turn my back even for a short time. Note, there's nothing wrog with the computers I work with at the job, I don't write about.

It stems from common workplace security measures. Thet real big problem stems from about a year ago, I'v e had to come home and deal withe the same PC green enerygy trendy horshit, tortoure at home. My wife tells me that it is just how windows 8 is and there's nothing we can do about it. In making such a sweeping statement, she's probly tryiing to shut me up. She really doesn't know any better than I do the technical options avaialbe.So have we become slaves to the software we shell out so much money for? Some nights Windows 8 will permit me a few hous of needed peace and maintain the power to the screen, holding in place my favorite chess website. Most nights it chooses to logoff on its own everytime I get up to take a leak or simply stretch. How can this be considered a technological advance over nineties computers, when most folks were puttering around with AOL. Are the Green Forces behind all of this power saving--feel good--baloney?

You're damn right, having your home PC screen blink off in the name of saving energy, warms the cockels of their psyches much likethem giving a cash handout to psuedo (phony) homeless guy, or making a cash donation to feed allegedy starving kids whom they never see. I am not green. My shit is brown and my heart is black. When my wife insist that there is nothing that can be done, to stop this computer from deciding when my computer session is over. I say bah humbug!! I've thought of a solution, I told her about it, but I'm afraid it didn't appeal to here/ I'll solve the problem easily, by yanking the laptop from werein the Window's 8 lives, off of its perch. I shall drag it outside , trailing computer entrails behind me. At the mouth of our driveay, I will turn to face Ranch Road 12 real back in a back swing and hurl the hippy infected lapton into the hippie infested Frisbee golf park across the street. I won't even have to call an IT team or helpline.


I'd like to just for this once write something not relating to our move, which should be in 30 days or a bit less. I've got to admit that this rant is inspired by one of our agents. He is a grade A Texas bullshitter. Thing is, I'm a proud Texan. I defend our republic when I travel and wear it on my internet lapel competing in chess. Many of my opponents are from about 50 countrys around the world. Iranians, Aussies, French, German, Malaysia, Khazakistan, Lithuania. They all know about 3 States, Florida, Cali and Texas. Most foreignors couldn't make out Ohio or Utah or Idaho on a map for a frigging million Euro's. What lingers in their minds is the Bush clan and the oil barons real and often exxagerated and imagined in leftie rhetoric often eminating from hollywood. When I greet them at the beginning of the game I write: "Greetings from Texas".

Many are kind and friendly and ask about whiskey. Others never utter a response, period. Seriously, I have friendly communication with players from many nations from which we are told not to travel to or tarry long in. Anywho, our one agent is a grade "a" fucking Texas bullshitter. As a former salesman from way back, these guys often assume I've never been the sales type with my beard and hair and tattoo's. When they try to con us, especially with the old psuedo-hick "hey, we'll shoot ya straight" horseshit, I wanna puke. It's fine to fool non Texans, but hey...don't try to con one of your own. I want you all to make a great effort to share this message with your kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews and even young adults up to the age of, oh say 45 or 50. UUrrrp. DON'T TRUST SALESMEN. DON'T..EVER!!!

When they lay on the hokey rube-ism's see it for what it is. When they work their honesty into the conversation and try to say they are unique and forthright, it's all lies. FUCKING LIES. When they try to show you with a print or internet example how you're getting such a deal, barely over their cost....BULL FUCKING SHIT!!! I used the same and similar lies. If I took a sales job tomorrow (hunh!) I'd lie again, but with a level of shrewdness and depth that is worthy of a karate Quadruple blackbelt.

A Grandmaster, a player. An icon. They all fucking lie. Their are a few honest mechanics, when you dig deep and shop around. Salesmen are always liars. Texas liars shouldn't work fellow Texans in the same manner they would some goddamn transplanted mark from Georgia or Montana. Warn your kids. Keep them from the forked tongues of sales jackasses like you would the tricks and snairs of a brainwash cult. Especially pull their coat about any of the aforementioned slithering sneaks who even bring up the subject of their own honest. The ones who claim to be the most honest, or not even a sales person are the fucking worst. Oh, by the way, if you could buy one of my books or cd's or records, the proceeds will NOT be directed to an ailing child or homeless victim.