Mr. Scramblewit

Rebirth

2006-08-31T17:45:06Z

Lo, my head has been stuck up my ass for ages now, and I am about to be reborn! My old leathery rectum will squeeze my glassy rock through my glorious stinkhole! Someone will be there to catch my head before it plops into the reservoir -- she better; I paid her enough.

Since my previous entry I've been to Vegas, Salt Lake City, Arizona, the mountains, state prison amusement parks, a seance with the Bony Ones. Saw a Christian rock group known as the Snake Handlers in concert. Yes! I long to be a rattler!

Over the past several months I have engaged in sexual activity up to and including orgasm 37.7 times. Different beds, different states, same woman. After each sexual act, the sheets were changed and I took a shower or bath. This is how I am. This is how God made me. If you think you can do a better job, you're welcome to try. For some excellent reason I'm sure, he built me as this man I am -- not as a red sandstone boulder nor a Universal Precept.

BROAD 'TIS LONG

I can watch tv, surf the net, lie on the floor, sleep on the couch, eat a banana, stroke a kitty, take a dump, wash my hands, wreck my car, bust a friendship all in the same day!

Because I'm Human... Hu-hu-hu-hu-man!
I'mmmmm a human fucking being!

Snorking For Love

2006-03-10T22:50:06Z

If I sleep at least 5 hours, take my meds, can greet the sun every other day, not too far behind in my work, then I am a rather pleasant person. Good humored, helpful even. Not much for boats, or the water in general. People drown in water every day and I refuse to add to the human misery. In fact, I am often drawn to human misery, the rotten stinking beds we all lie in, messy kitchens, disordered living rooms.

I can read aloud from the Song of Solomon while drinking from a glass of water at the same time. This does not work as well with Isaiah. You can dance along with the text or beat your temblor. Have you a temblor? You may have to purchase one.

As I roll ever faster down the steep ramp of Life into the tar pit of Death and the underwater nuclear waste dump of the After-Life, I want to share the joy of slow decay with a warm, wonderful. witty, willowy woman. The willowy business is optional. I can't cook, but I can drive. I won't argue with you, I'll always put you ahead of myself. You, you, you!

Only half the laundry I can do -- I can wash, but I can't dry -- don't know why, never got the hang of it. I'll take a bullet for you. If we ever go quail hunting with Dick Cheney, I'll take the bird shot in my loathsome ass.

What I hope to get out of this, well, I don't know. My circumcised cock needs to breathe every so often.

Refs Score Victory in Super Duper

2006-02-06T20:52:31Z

Detroit all lit up last night -- powerhouse football interlaced with flying silk flags of the referees all at the behest of powerful mobsters under HBO great Tony Soprano.

"Wheeze can fix dah World Series of 1919, we fixed World War fuckin' II, we shot Kennedy and King an' all dem fuckers. We can fix duh Super Pooper"

So the Vegas Mafia called the officials on the playing field and demanded a Pittsburgh victory by 11. If the officials balked, they would lose many family members: the family tree, the family bushes, the family lawn -- all, all gone. All their pretty shrubbery. That's why the refs weren't even subtle about helping the Steelers: no fucking with lives of lovey doves.

I got to get back to the script. I'm in Picasso at the Lapin Agile. We open Friday -- we are in good motherfucking shape.

running_dog @ 2006-01-23T23:55:00

2006-01-24T08:30:22Z

We've been working with this group the last 1.46 years and I feel a breaking coming on. The weather in my head is chilly and cold. Don't tip the reaper -- he works on straight salary. We take good care of him. He's one of our boys.

January 24 is the bloosiest day of the year. Many scientists agree. I'm waking up and going forth into the world anyway. This will add any meaning to my life -- imagine a giant white plaster wall with no more than three electrical outlets in it. Or a nine foot slaphappy mount of clay in the center circle of an old basketball court where many young men were murdered. Get the creepiness, the vast emptiness of d-d-death? Oh, you do! I know you do!

Mustn't lose sight of my business. Go over to the church and find the water meter. Attend rehearsal -- be very good. Avoid class struggle. Renounce paranoia.

Enter My Occupation

2006-01-15T02:21:17Z

PLEASE STATE THE RATIONALIZATION FOR YOUR EXISTENCE.

How many words am I allowed?

AS FEW AS POSSIBLE. I HAVE BILLIONS OF PEOPLE TO SIFT THROUGH, THEN I MUST EXAMINE OTHER PRIMATES FOR EVIDENCE OF REASON AND SOUL POWER. WE MAY START A COLLATERAL EVOLUTIONARY LINE TO COMPETE WITH YOU SO-CALLED "NEARER TO GOD" TYPES. BUT I'VE SAID TOO MUCH AS IT IS. PLEASE STATE YOUR OCCUPATION AND DO NOT BE CUTE ABOUT IT!

I am a railer against the cunning cowardice of Bushist dung beetles. While primarily a railer, I do perform un-licensed ranting on the side. Nothing to write home about, though I generally drive home and before discussing my ranting with no one.

I wish to thank you for allowing me to express myself. I feel safe and warm in this womb, although it is a bit damp. Is it possible for you to dry out this chamber?

My wife is out in the world buying presents for me. You need not stand to wish me a happy birthday.

A Quick Account of My Labor and Thought Since the Previous Jotterings

2006-01-10T10:58:48Z

Well, shoot me full of horse and pump my stomach dry! I had a day... I had a day. Deebury e-ed to congratulate me on my elevator ride to the top. This is very inside baseball and I won't even begin to explain.

Judge Alito was skewered this morning of no questions, all senators pontificating, gesticulating, fornicating language, fellating good sense by the eighteen blowfishes wagging their buttloads. Members of the Senate Judiciary each had a 10 minute opening statement. They emptied their putzy mouths and allowed good air to escape. Questions roll in tomorrow.

Rehearsed the show in Edmonds tonight with my tribemates. We had a goose of a time, with eggs and crackers and the buttery bean. Whenever I act in plays, I always call forth the Buttery Bean Lady -- a beautiful woman no doubt. She distills Bull's Blood into liquor.

Oh, Bull Pizzle!

2006-01-09T10:22:40Z

Just a whole lot of hurtful noise buzzing inside my bony cage. Let me rattle off the points. Be patient. Take care of your own business first before pulling the hairy lip out of my eye, to paraphrase the Saint.

1) Am I getting half the props owed to me? Hell, no! Satisfy my longing with a mere 56% of my props in arrears and I'll be happy. They talk around me -- people do. You know who. Too afraid to build me too high -- or, they really honest-to-god feel I'm not hot enough to sweat over.

No, that's can't be it.

2) Struggle with lines this week. Hate this part of the rehearsal process. Still thinking about the people referenced in point #1. Shake it, I have other issues.

I got another day to raise the command over my lines to barely respectable. Old faded clothes, worn but no holes, tears or rips.

3) I can watch our brilliant senators run ball-point pens through the proud flesh of Alito. After a few days of living with the stink of the rotting congressional body, his tissue will quiver as his mouth blithers. Only two days of rotgut inquisition scheduled.

4) The drugstore, the software stand, a few other nods and twinkles to sites on the web. I'm very tired, mind-alteringly exhausted. Preternaturally pooped.

From the Mind of Man -- Part 1

2006-01-08T12:00:21Z

The greatest work of art ever is the film Team America: World Police Not "Citizen Kunt", or "Cocksucking Hamlet, Punkface of Den-Motherfuck" or Beatmeatin's "Ode to the Joy of Buttfuckery" or any of those ass-suckin' douchebag nauseating vomit-slurping goddamn assholes. The fucking comedy of Team America is a super-duper cold jism shake! I love every strand of pubic hair, every sloppy wet brimstone fart, every dingleberry. Those cocksucking country fuckfaces twanging cornball "Amer-i-cah Is Me" songs straight out of the Super Bowl! Goddamn! Everybody gets their assholes plucked - dipshit actors and onward christian cunt-scrapers alike! No Turd Left Unturned!

Please Help Me By Allowing Me to Help You!

2006-01-07T09:46:29Z

HOW TO MEET NEW PEOPLE by Mr. Scramblewit

I meet hundreds of people every time I go downtown. Person after person jostle pass me, every color and size and shape: pink, small and pretzel-shaped; large green vacuum cleaners. They assume one of the five sexes. They babble in Portuguese, Japanese, Cheddarcheese. I glare at them, they scowl back. I smile at them, they scowl back. I laugh and point at them, they drop foul substances on my shoes.

My advice: Don't go downtown to meet people. Go to a residential neighborhood and find a branch of the American Federal Bureaucratic Presbyterian Church. You don't want just any church, you want a Coolian Church.

First drive around the church. Are there walker and wheel chair tracks on the lawn. Are several vans from nursing homes parked on the streets? Are ambulances constantly arriving, picking up worshippers and carrying them away? This is a sign of too many old people.

Don't get me wrong: I love old people. I want to be a very old person when I become aged. In fact I wish to reach my peak of longevity long before I die. If they hand me a walker, I'll walk it. If they strap me in a wheel chair, I'll do wheelies down the street. But I'm not at that plane yet, dig? I need to talk to people who stay up past 8:30 at night. Plus I hate it when people snore while I'm speaking to them.

The church building itself should not be sleekly modern. Buildings like that make me feel lost. The building should be old, faded, slightly crumbling. It should be riddled with many tiny rooms packed with stuff. No one knows what the stuff is or how it got there.

But to have a Coolian church. you need of Coolian core of 20-40 members, age 25 to 56 years old. Kids should hang loosely from their parent belts. What you must pay attention to is the overall personality mix of the group. First of all, you must have at least one actor, more if absolutely necessary. Many many doctors and nurses, the more the better. The usual smattering of lawyers, accountants, teachers, administrators and the like. And to round things out, a Speech and Hearing Therapist to keep people from sticking sharp objects in their ears!

GOOD PLACES TO LOOK:
Volunteer at a community theater. That's where I met Barb! You can work back stage! Props running crew, lights, sound, costumes. You can meet cool people there -- I met Barb that way! Did I say that already?

Grocery stores. Every says this is a good place, but I'm not convinced. "Excuse me, can you help me pick some asparagus?" Doesn't work for me.

BAD PLACES TO LOOK:
Jails, prisons, any place where you are confined and cannot leave under your own volition.

Hospitals: pretending you're sick to get attention from doctors NEVER WORKS.
Any party where the invitation asks you to bring your own handcuffs.

Cemeteries. Yes, there are a lot of people, but they are always so tired!

I hope I have been of some help.

Bumbledummery at the Coal Mine

2006-01-04T10:05:59Z

Your daady's dead, he's alive, he might be alive, he is surely dead. That goddamn governor Joe Manchin is blabbering stinking gas from his bluish lips: we got one miracle today, we did nothing wrong, no blood on my dick, hey Roofy, you got any blood on your dick? Well, check it! Roofy don't have no blood on his dick. We got a communication bust down from this asshole and he shoved it up Roofy's asshole. Roofy found me and stuck the message up my asshole. I proceeded to jam it hard hard staight up the fucking rectum of every single man, woman, child, child molestor, drugged out fool in the whole state of West Virgina. Did we get any confirmation or assertation or ennervation? Fuck, no! You impugn my fucking integrity? Better leave the great state of West Virginia. Stay out of the mines, cuz you're a pussy.

The governor falls out of his airplane at 10,000 feet. It's the third time he's done it; doesn't seem to bother him. He's another Bill Clinton -- he has the brains, he has the dick, but he is far more discriminate. He would never nail half the cocksucking trash that got Bill Bob in so much trouble. I know Joe. I know his type.

So you lie like hell to goddamn miners, you corporate toenail clippers. There are the wives and mothers and kids: the grieving families, the angry families, the goddamn families. Your airport manager knows this: after a plane crash the battered families gather inside the terminal:

"Here come the goddamn families," he mutters.

If you feel that away about them, go ahead and lie to them. Are they really people the same way you are? They smack their kids around, drink too much sin, scream and shout, don't even talk about it. You want to help these people? Lie to them.

Bennet Hatfield, CEO of the Goddamn Coal and Body Retrieval Corporation:

"This is the worst day of my life. People were rich in joy now they are poor in sorrow. I refuse to give them much money or their buttholes will plug up. They take way too much money from us taxpayers anyway. Maybe I ought to kill my fucking self.

"I'm sure sorry about the fuck-up. Just made a mistake. Didn't mean to hurt nobody. Shoot, you won't find a conspiracy here."

More will be said on this subject later. This issue will enjoy exposure in the courts for the rest of my goddamn life, can't say nothin' about yours. I'll also keep reading the minds of Governor Joe Manchin and Bennett Hatfield.

Free ME! Let ME GO!

2006-01-01T07:53:46Z

I am being detained in a death row cell of uncertain locaton. Probably a western state judging from the appearence and demeanor of the wretched jailers, the musical tastes of my fellow dead bumps, the hot dry stink of the food. My cardboard coffin is ready. It's in the courtyard of the penitentary. My picture is on the top of the box -- the damn realization of impending death has hit me, and I'm not taking it well.

My death is scheduled for January 1, 2006 at midnight. We're talking 23 or 20 minutes, depending on the clock.

"Life's a ball if only you know it,and it's all just waiting for you!" from the 1950's tune I GOT A LOT OF LIVING TO DO!.

Damn, only 16 minutes to go. I wasted 10 minutes trying to format the italics. Father O'Toole wants to bless my filthy hide, soon to be doomed to a eternity of waiting in a government office with no magazines, my service number never called, never ever. People enter the office as babies and leave as ancient heaps of gristle and skin.

How are they killing my ass? The NEEDLE? FUCK the NEEDLE! Blow my head off with a shotgun; make a mess.

Welcome Home! Watch your step, I moved the BODIES!

2005-12-31T07:23:53Z

The BODIES! Hi, everyone! You remember me? My name is ***** and I'd been dead for months! But now I am alive! How do you explain that? I rose myself from the dead, that's how Others tried to help me, but I shooed them away. I wanted to raise myself alone, and I did. See what Grits and Gravy can do?

This makes me, *****, the second person to raise himself from the dead. The first was Jesus. I refuse to compare myself to Jesus, despite what others claim. Jesus re-animated himself to SAVE MANKIND from their STINKING STUPID SINS!!! I raised myself strictly as a stunt. I picked up some money on side bets, but it was mostly to show people up. Ego comes easily to me.

What about other ReDo's like Elvis, Jimbo Morrison, Larry Flynt, Bob M***o, a tire salesman from Waterloo, OH? Their rewinds failed to complete properly. They are stuck in snake consiousness, maybe pig if they are non-jewish or non-muslim. Two out of three middle eastern religions hate the pork and the pork rind. A lot of flavor they're missing.

I am full-bodied consciousness! I live in the Space Between Planets, I live of the moons of Saturn and Jupiter -- they call me Uncle Spunk on Uranus. I am a major radio personality on Neptune. On earth I sleep in the front seat of a very old cold pickup truck. Bumping into asteroids, sniffing astronomical farts!

Great Lennon -- In My Life

2005-02-04T02:54:38Z

There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better, some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living, in my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning, when I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them, in my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them, in my life I love you more, in my life I love you more

running_dog @ 2005-02-01T00:24:00

2005-02-01T08:24:58Z

Save the rich!

George W's real prize!

2004-11-04T08:39:05Z

Since W. won re-election, he has beaten his father George H. W. in the old Oedipal conflict. Does this mean W. gets to sleep with his mother?

What does the term "Pearl Jam" mean?

2004-10-13T07:56:04Z

Does it refer to Vedder's grandmother Pearl who made special jam laced with peyote? Hell, no! What bullshit! Anybody who believes that has already had their brains blown out of their skulls and is simply waiting for a bed to open up at the local custodial care facility.

Presenting a definition of Pearl Jam: for one thing, no peyote, not even model airplane glue. You're taking this straight, eyes open like a lamb pulled fresh from the snow. Now I must ask if there are any virgins left on the internet. If you are a virgin and you read this, you may never copulate in your lifetime, or you may copulate to dangerous levels. You shouldn't copulate moe than 11 times in a 24 hour period. Yes, it does seem arbitrary, but that's how it is.

This is really, really gross: Pearl Jam is that watery stuff that leaks out of your asshole just before you take a shit.

Take this information to your spouse, brother, neat older sister, trusted friend, a teacher who smokes, the guy who looks in your window all the time because he wants to become part of your family. Are you a church hound? By all means, lay this on your priest, pastor, shaman, Great Swan or the Brass Pig of Romania.

I forgot to list rabbi. Go talk to the rabbi, it'll do you good.

I hope I didn't ruin your evening.

Campaign 2004

2004-10-08T22:22:40Z

Nader called Edwards a "sniveling coward".

A Pennsylvania state senator referred to several of his colleagues as "faggots".

Bush hurled the childhood expression "poopy butt" at Kerry.

We want to give democratic elections to the Iraqis? What more can we do to destroy that country?

I think Iraq is paying for all the bad things it did when it was called Babylon: orgies, virgin sacrifices, pie eating contests, blood baths, blood hot tubs...

Frag

2004-10-07T21:05:46Z

I have a few things on my mind and I'm not in the mood to untangle the worms and fix each on its individual china plate.

With 2:20 rolling around, I'm cutting this short -- are the people in my heart surgery recovery class still alive? Randi? Uh, Rocky? Always a Rocky! Big black guy, into the program, gave up his barbecue. Watches his Browns and his Indians. Poker with his buds. Still alive?

Gotta drive up to Walgreen for my meds.

Ten Minute Free Write (need the date stamp)

2004-10-01T07:19:51Z

It only took Brian Wilson 37 years, but I think he has finally hit the Genius Button hard enough to insure his spot in the American Song Writers' Hall of Fame which is located in a blowling alley in Hotdog With Mustard and Cheese, Kentucky. They needed something to supplement public hangings. Right now, SMILE (Wilson's Magnum Opus) filters through my earphones, the audio port, the CD, which I just got yesterday. Looking for Pearl Jam's skullslapping, soul stomping work of Musical Delectation '10' or TEN or even One Followed By A Zero. We speak of the work in hushed tones. But they did not have the Vedder-energized Song Collection.

Do they spin only 10 songs from the Stone Gossard disk, hence the title? Do you think I asked a stupid question, or do you attribute my callowness to a defect of character rather than a paucity of intellect?

Is Chuggy the Beer Pig reading this?

So what do I think of the CD, Brian Wilson's SMILE? Child is the Father of Man currently engorges my ears. Eminem should rip and rap his chuck and jive after death, his own would be preferable, Short of post-mortem miraculous rappery, let the music settle until the Guaranteed Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Heavenly choirs sing 12 parts, you know. Exactly 8 more parts than their human counterparts. Transmuting four to twelve parts (Eight of WHICH we cannot CONCEIVE!) I'll leave to the Master Musicians of Mouse Parts, Ohio. Some great people there, are you with me?

Done for now. Do not stay up all night praying brains through your ears!!

Weezie has passed on.

2004-07-13T07:27:58Z

Isabel Sanford died of natural causes on July 9, 2004. She was 86 years old. Believe it or not, Ms. Sanford was 21 years older than Sherman Helmsley, the actor who played her husband on The Jeffersons.

So when "George" was 21, "Weezie" was 42. Their bond was strong, even as she aged far far ahead of him. Maybe they married when he was 17 and she was 38. Other examples abound. Age differences don't mean a damn thing as long as the love grip is mighty, and interpersonal balance is even.

They moved it on up to the eastside, the goddamn eastside. Many bodies lay on that trail. The injured ones, the mangled Native Americans and slaves and Portugese manservants and Irish cattle. Don't leave off the German slug machines, popping off brown, slimy invertebrae by the ton. All helped make America great for you and me.

Of all rock groups, the Rolling Stones are probably the coolest. I know I'll excite a shitstorm of articulate, beery debate. Let it flow, brothers and sisters, let it flow. My point is: the members of the Rolling Stones are British. There are four Rolling Stones now (bear with me): Mick Jagger is a Brit. A goddamn Brit but a Brit nevertheless. Please don't stop me now. Keith Richards is a Brit, yep. A fucking cigarete ash of a Brit, you gotta AD-MIT!
Ron Wood is an Englishman, Sir Goddamn Ron, let us call him, let us refer to him in our journals. Of course, the drummer is Charlie Watts, King of Backbeats. Venture to the Land of Backbeats and King Charlie is the motherfucker who cries out:"beat them harder, the bloody arses!" in the most inimitable Brrrrrrrrritish panache,

What we need to remember from all this -- and I have to admit its hard -- don't necessarily jump up and down about the US achieving greatness in the wide circle of human endeavor without acknowledging that other cultures can be really cool and great as well, For instance, the Rolling Stones is a very very cool band and a mighty great one as well, but, son-of-a-bitch, they are NOT Americans! They are cocksucking Brits!!!!!

Date of the First Free Cell Game I Played on My Current Computer

2004-06-27T04:35:22Z

08/09/2002! On the Gregorian calender that is August 9, 2002. I am 95% sure of this, the records being in disarray. Even when I lined them up, I found my notations confusing. For example "wha i do with this wire thing huh?" dated the 9th. Similar entries abound, some using words only a U.S. Vice-President would utter. Many many key files are dated 08/09/2002. I remember the first thing I did after setting up the computer was play a couple rounds of Free Cell (a "round" is a set of three games). Since I NEVER reset the won/loss numbers, I am assured the first game on my Gateway was indeed on August 9, 2002! (I go to and from the Gregorian Calender with ease!)

Great Leap Forward

2004-06-26T21:43:51Z

That's what I'm calling the next phase of my life. This term was coined by the great Chinese revolutionary Mao Zedong. To learn more, follow this link.

These Are The Milestones In My Life

2004-06-26T19:52:21Z

I have just won my 1000th game of Free Cell on this computer. My total record now stands at 1000 wins, 588 losses for .629 winning precentage. Twenty games is my longest winning streak while nine games is my longest losing string. I've owned this Gateway since mid-August 2002. Maybe I'll look up the precise date if I sense a groundswell of interest.

Cy Young won 511 major league baseball games in his career. That is approximately half the number of games I won at Free Cell. You got to remember that baseball and Free Cell are two completely different games. So entireIy different, I may be persuaded to write a book on the subject.

running_dog @ 2004-06-24T00:16:00

2004-06-24T07:16:27Z

Too loud outside. Who is murdering the taxicabs? I'll take them aside, the taxi slayers, and hit them with my brave words. Still noisy, the taxi slayers have moved toward the Sound, the Lake, the River, whatever it is. Away from my earshot, that's all I care. And that is all I do care. I refuse to care about people I don't care about, and I won't say it again.

Now the noise generators -- that's all they are to me, not human beings. Hah! Human? Bite my thick, hairy orangutan. I'll bring him out from the bedroom, just hold on.

The current noise gallumperspoons are the highly offensive morons who stink up the world with their human bodies engorged with drink and moldy, buggy food. One drunken bitch is bleating "STOP" as if some person or other wants to spray sex upon her hairy back. She is so goddamn fat her stinking ass drags across the ground and leaves a path of slime like a snail. You want to have sex with her? Are you above a mollusk? If so, find a slab of fat and gristle that at least strives for bilateral symmetry.

Just shut up everybody so I can go to sleep. There, they heard me or they read this entry. I need to prepare for a phone interview. First I'm gratifying myself sexually using the phone. Perhaps I'll hook up the phone leads to what is laughingly called my testicles. I'll call my number with a cell phone and shit, piss and e-jack as the current surges through my genitalia, my "little balls".

Fear of DEATH?? Bluh!!!!!!

2004-06-15T05:26:34Z

Another day against me. Damn! Just lop 24 hours off the available ham meat hanging from the Everlasting Meathook. Anxiety wracking me and I sit back watching my time roll down the street. In Seattle, the streets are never level, only up or down. Here's good advice to myself: wedge a live rocket between the cheeks and rise to Cracker Town Heaven.