Only saw James Wilsey the once. Janus Theatre, Kitsilano. There are a couple rock shows I think of as being better but they probably were not. The only time I saw the fucking Avengers. No light show or any of that other hippie shit. Maximum rock ‘n’ roll. Fucking near put me in the grave that night did.
Well, James is gone now. Happy I have stayed in touch with Penelope Houston or I would not even know it. Getting to be there are more people on the wrong side of grave than the right. Nothing left to do but keep on rocking. You did some good fucking work James. I sure appreciated it.
I like Christmas as much or more as the next motherfucker. Too bad I cannot leave the fucking house without being Christmas fucking caroled to fucking death from now until fat fuck Mary sings. Like Christmas so much, in fact, I will share a Christmas story with you.
While cleaning out my office today I came across something that plain screamed Christmas: an old Christmas card. Made by UNICEF it is. Does not get more holly motherfucking jolly Christmas than that now does it? Card is undated but I reckon it must be a good three decades old as it is not made out of recycled shit paper. From someone I corresponded with while they were imprisoned in one of those foreign countries some think a fucking wall will keep our women, children and beasts of burden from being gang raped on a near daily basis.
Being no slouch, you will have noticed the righteous as fuck jersey on the front cover. [A Montreal Canadiens’ jersey worn by a boy playing hockey in the street with his friends.] Take a good fucking look at it. In June it will be drenched in champagne and the opposition’s blood.
I’ve got a new and improved TV. That means more channels, including MTV Brazil and ESPN. And that means hockey one night per week and, better yet, almost never the fucking Canucks!
Thanks for all the mail. They even let the Anarchist shit you send in to me. My fellow prisoners have me translate that shit into Portuguese.
Merry Fucking Christmas and Happy Fucking New Year.
The message within the card is a simple one. Peace, joy and friendship. Something I wish to you all. The prisoner who sent the card to me has been free for quite some time now. Could be they are your next door neighbour for all you know. Brazil, however, having elected themselves a fascist remains in chains and ready to explode.
It has often been observed one cannot get assistance when one wants in the retail environment (or any environment for that matter). Yesterday I found the opposite to be true. It was the dinner hour mind you.
Have not been as regular as I might be recently and when you shit beer like I do this is a serious lacking. So serious in this instance I sought pharmaceutical assistance. On the shelves of the Big Store pharmacy were many make you go potions. What to choose? The urgency of the situation made me ask for some assistance in the near empty store.
“Try Senokot,” the young woman suggested. “It has been in my family’s medicine cabinet for many years.”
I looked at the boxes of Senokot. There were two different kinds.
“Should I get the kind with added stool softener?” I asked her.
She looked deep into my eyes with her brown eyes and appeared to summon all the empathy for me she could muster and said, “Oh yes. The more stool softener the better.”
Was in Dope City with Sonja on the weekend. Downtown.
“Loads of fucking Sounders’ supporters about,” observed Sonja. “Ugliest colours I have ever seen.”
There were Sounders fans fucking everywhere. In the pubs even. It was sickening. Later their team kicked the Whitecaps’ ass. Every last Sounders supporter probably made it back to the border without being accosted even once. A Sounders’ supporter would meet more bother in a senior’s home than they do on the once dangerous streets of Dope City. Is every one here really a bunch of wimps?