Posts Tagged ‘Dirty Howie’

Porn and Ham Versus the Siren Song of Suicide

Friday, 11 January 2008

If you’re the ‘Emperor Of The Universe’ (per another post) why can’t you exact CHANGE on this motherfuckin’ planet, nigga? And by CHANGE I mean you, me, M. Todd, S. Gary, Hip, WBM III, Capt. Morgan, etc., would be celebrated as this moment’s best authors and we would be welcomed with open arms by the hottest bitches we can imagine (and we have imaginations, by god) and millions upon millions would buy our novels, poetry volumes, t-shirts, key rings, bumper stickers, etc., and we’d be nigga rich and living like we should be living instead of working shithole jobs for shithole pay.

— Digital aka Dirty Howie

Hadn’t yet had a chance to add I’ve been downgraded to “Emperor of Only This Room I’m In”.

The practical answer to your question is that I have nothing worth selling, no novel or stories and poems don’t sell anyway. Now you could take the best from AHA and make a book out of that, with all of us pitching in on both costs and content, maybe a third of it new. The technology is now in place to self-publish high-quality books, as few as 25 or even five. A Delaware friend of mine published his own book of poetry that way. It (isn’t very good, but) looks like anything you might find in a bookstore.

The second practical answer is, if you want to publish something to get rich, your best shot is to write a romance novel (second best shot: cook book). I don’t know that most people hate their lives, but even the happy ones want to get away from themselves via the fantasies and escapism of linear storytelling. Even Donald Trump must occasionally watch movies or TV to take a break from himself–tho why would he bother when he’s a living cartoon who can blink anything he wants into existence–but he does.

I’m too disgusted to write seriously (or for long) because, “It’s all been said before, and better”, also not an original thought. There’s a better way to bliss: doing nothing at all while suffering. You have your alk and drugs, Todd has music, alk, drugs. Gary has food, alk, a pension and insanity. I have porn and ham. It would be so easy to just give up. It’s damned tempting. The way we live makes suicide the sanest choice.

Upon reading Howington

Thursday, 27 December 2007

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

~Emily Dickinson


Apologies, Howington, I can’t toss too many silver dollars in the fountain of your comments section when I’ve got ego to toss off here.

I would kill myself if I were guaranteed the cessation of all feeling, but after living this long I know that suicide is no escape, even in death there is no peace, you’ll be back at the DMV or living a real life Beetlejuice.

Whatever awaits on the other side, be it endless torture or pleasure or taking up yet another body and resuming the grind on the blue marble, I don’t want it. Only a damned fool enjoys this Endless Stupid.

The only asshole really seizing the day is the Tax Man…he knoweth it’s harder but not impossible to rob the past and screw you today while tomorrow is already spent.

Palm Breeze

Saturday, 22 December 2007

Right now it’s 17:47 and I’m in Howieland. First I took a few small twigs of shroom, followed by “medicinal” mary…a $25 J as perfectly rolled as a cigarette, comes in its own screwtop glass tube. My whole head feels like your palm when you stick it out the car window doing 40. My eyes are painless but look like eggs and ketchup. I feel like a statue in the seat of a roller coaster, unmoving yet moving FAST. There are cookies EVERYWHERE, real ones, and fried chicken and sandwiches. The place is it to myself.

Thank you Santa!


It’s now a few hours later. I was grinning like a mild idiot watching an ancient movie called “The Manhattan Project” about a 16-year-old genius who “borrows” some plutonium and builds his own atom bomb (lucky for us, the kid is White and non-Muslim). The kid, whose acting career has fizzled since, especially compared to his then-hot movie girlfriend Cynthia Nixon (later the “dykey” red-haired wench on Sex and the Nonstop-Yapping), runs around town being chased by the actor who later became “Frasier’s” father playing the hapless military goofball trying to catch him.

This ridiculous piece of cine-fluff is saved by the great John Lithgow, who by himself suspends disbelief for everyone else. He had one kick-ass line that should be applied to all terrorists today: “Lock them in a room…and throw away the room”.

I now have a mild “stoneover”, a word I refuse to believe I coined, where my head feels like a painless ball of needless pressure. I worked out and now am waiting to see if Spike will cancel on me for goin’ out. Life rolls on a like a turd.

Which reminds me, TV still sucks

Tuesday, 27 November 2007

One more knife in the heart from Smallville occured a few eps back.  It must’ve been around Thanksgiving on the show’s timeline or something, for there was a happy, Rockwellian slow motion of almost the entire cast sitting around a bountiful table, passing heaping plates of food.  Every character at the table had either held guns or shot the others at some point in the show’s run.  Lex Luthor alone has a body count akin to the Green River Killer.  It’s as if S-ville’s dickhead crew filmed the cast having dinner then stuck it in ’cause they lost some real footage.

There, now the shame can heal.

Regarding more TV, Dirty Howie writes:

“I don’t watch t.v. shows at all. I stayed with The Sopranos and Lost as long as I could but lost interest.  The Sopranos last show was a gutless copout by a writer who did what he did because he was mad that he had to write that show for as long as he did.  So he just ended it without ending it. How the show’s producers allowed this to happen is beyond me but maybe they were sick and tired of it too like everyone else. As for LOST who knows when that fucker will ever see airtime again. It ended with Jack the dumbass calling for help when the leader guy of the island, who he just beat the shit out of, told him not to call for help because those “helpers” were really after the island and its mysterious powers and would kill everyone on the island so they could have it for themselves. Besides, Michelle Rodriguez had the best character on the show, a no nonsense bitch played very well by her since she is a no nonsense bitch, and they up and killed her almost as fast as they put her in the script. So Lost pretty much lost me when they offed my favorite character on their never-ending show. Maybe they should rename the show to Lost: Where’s The Last Script At, Niggo?”


For awhile there I don’t think ANYone was watching SOPRANOS, even before the year-long hiatuses.  The last season was great until the end…regarding the last episode I agree on all counts, it was like a steaming turd hanging from the butt, refusing to drop…and when Hillary Clunkton does an unfunny parody to advertise herself, how hip could it be?

I was dismayed to read there was no explanation or additional info on the final episode on the Sopranos final season DVD release (maybe the asshole writers are saving something for the entire series box set).  Regardless, I ain’t never going to buy any of that until 2015, when the entire last 30 years of ALL televised shows will fit on something the size of a credit card.

I gave up on LOST when they killed off the fat guy’s potential girlfriend.  And yes, killing Rodriquez was a major mistake.  I hear Baldy Blue Eyes (the crip who could walk again after the plane crash) and Mr. Scary Negro have also been offed.

Someone told me of a skit on SNL where guest star Matthew Fox is in an elevator and one after the other, cast members leave saying, “You know what I love about riding this elevator?  Unlike your show, SOMETHING HAPPENS”.  Ha ha ha.

A switchout of writers is what fucked LOST up.  LOST fans of late are happy to have the original writers back…but I was already gone and will stay that way.

HEROES also took too long to get to the fucking point.  Serializing any series so that if you miss one episode you’re totally lost is foolish, even with Tivo.  I didn’t even make it to the end of Heroes’ Season One.

TV continues to suck ass.  We all have our guilty pleasures, but it just sucks.  Always will.