a quality teacher

I have the pleasure of knowing my 13 year old daughter is being taught seventh grade science by a quality teacher. I grew up one block away from him. We went to school and graduated together. We were two peas on a small pod of close friends growing up. He was class president… one of those years in high school. I can’t remember which one; it’s been a while. He was, and still is, a golden boy with blonde hair and a dark tan. When we were kids we went to the same pool and I had to endure girls going gaga over him. Now that were adults, the same is true. But this year he’s teaching my oldest daughter science. Before this school year she knew him well. She knew him as one of her dad’s cigar smoking, gambling, buddies. Even during backyard beer drinking I told her to call him by his last name. Mr. Romstopke until she was past his grade. I follow suit. So one morning, I was leaving for work and my daughter was stumbling about and rubbing the sleepy out of her eyes. I got her attention and looked her straight in the eyes and said “I want you to give Mr. Romstopke a message”
“What’s that?”
“Tell him I said he’s a mother fucker and he’s smelled like shit ever since the day I met him.”
She sarcastically replied “Sure if you don’t mind me getting suspended.”
After work I jokingly asked her if she gave Mr. Romstopke the message. She said she had in fact given him the message and he had a message for me.
“Mr. Romstopke wants me to tell you to suck a fart out of his asshole.”

i think its more butter that scotch

i have seen the future and in it my ankles hurt

i have the self confidence of a worm... a worm who thinks he can do anything

i was walking across the walkway over third street the top is a glass arch it looks like the future i realized i was looking at the future i saw growing up in the 70's and 80's I never thought that in this futuristic society that any of its inhabitants would have a leg that always ached

Then I'd cut her eyes out so no one would have seen what I'd done.

I like to buck certain social norms. For instance, I don’t turn around on elevators. I try to be the last one in and I will stand there in a stranger’s personal space and blankly stare them down. People usually just look down; but some laugh and stare back. Most men like to disguise their actions when examining a woman’s rack. I like to be more blatant. Rather than lower my head and trying to find something else to act like I’m focusing on, I prefer to concentrate on sexual fantasies. Often I’m rolling the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth imagining a nipple in my lips. I will squint and strain my eyes to try to distinguish the size and shape of the nipples. I find most women fall into one of two categories: receptive and unreceptive. Her reaction to a wink and nod will reveal in which category she falls. Another frequent faux pas I like to commit is dropping the F-bomb in entirely inappropriate situations. I never do this in a threatening manner. There is no fun in that. I like to slip it in casually like

“Sir I think you left your lights on”

“Oh thanks”

“Yeah, boy that’ll ruin your fucking day”

Of coarse any yahoo can walk around all day saying fuck. The challenge is to still sound intelligent. Eventually slipping “fuck” into conversations won’t be enough. This leaves you in the situation I find myself in with my good friend Chuckles. Chuckles and I like to say the most inappropriate things in public while remaining completely straight-faced. This all started while we were enjoying some unusually strong psilocybin mushrooms. We were standing near a beer line commenting to each other about the sexual acts we’d like to perform on the various gals that would walk by. I noticed a gal next to me listening in. So I said to Chuckles. “How’d you like to fuck that gal in the ass” indicating an approaching woman with a buxom bottom. “Oh, fuck yeah” Chuck replied with enthusiasm. I quickly followed with “Then chop her up into little pieces…. send them to her mom” We’ve enjoyed hours of such comments since then. We got some real dirty looks when I expressed how glad I was that Peter Jennings had lung cancer. That was in line for the Star Wars III Premier. A more recent gem was in McDonalds where I said I wished Cindy Sheehan had lost two sons in Iraq. We thought it best to jam in a hurry after that one. Danger

Pentagrams and Pickle Juice

So I’m riding my bike on a highway overpass, wearing jean cut offs and a pentagram around my neck and a Cubs hat. I’m not wearing shoes or anything else. This clueless chick rides by in the passenger seat or some old beat up piece of shit rust bucket and yells “Nice biker shorts fag!”

They never expect you to catch up.

So there we are at the next red light. The beautiful thing about sarcasm is I could say to her “You got a boyfriend?” and no matter what her reply is I can say “can’t imagine why”

I stopped posting to this blog weeks ago. In that time I have re-located the Danger Compound, watched all six Star Wars films 7 or 8 times, been arrested, drank pickle juice from the jar, attended two concerts: Black Crows/Tom Petty & Allman Brothers Band with special guest Moe, smoked enough dope to chill out the Tasmanian Devil, and found a leaf blower.

I thought I’d come back to this blog full of ideas for posts.

So here I am typing the mental poop that pops into my head. And I can’t imagine why.

Notice

All Cannabis Diaries actions are suspended until 5 Aug 05' due to relocation of the Danger Compound. Nothing Follows.

Wine Is Fine but Whiskey's Quicker

For those of you who don’t know about my mother’s heroic crusade go back and read “Help Us Stop This Killer” from June 2nd, for those of you who know the score, dig this update.
Last week while training, my ma fell. She badly bruised both knees and broke her left hand in four places. Today she had a few pins placed to set the bones as they heal. Against the odds she is still determined to participate in the Out of Darkness Walk. This week her brother’s two surviving sons are staying with her. It is bittersweet for them to be witness to their aunt’s dedication to their father’s memory. Princess Leia has nothing on Grandma Danger.

The Star Wars Posts Episode VI Soon You Will Learn To Appreicate Me

On May 25th, 1983 Star Wars Return of the Jedi was released in theaters. No doubt from then till now, a vast ocean of semen has flowed from the penises of masturbating Star Wars fans, dreaming of Leia in her slave outfit. In my fantasies, I have given it to a bikini clad Carrie Fisher proper, time and time again. Chained to Jabba the Hutt’s rupulsor throne, Leia’s sexuality is so out there it’s practically in your mouth. This can make it easy to overlook an important lesson she teaches us. Never underestimate a woman. They may be the fairer sex, but they possess a fearlessness and power that must be respected.
In this installment Leia is introduced as Boushh, an Ubese bounty hunter. Although she is hiding her identity, she brandishes her bravado, wielding a thermal detonator as a bargaining chip against the powerful Jabba the Hutt. As she reveals herself to Han Solo just after she frees him of the corbonite freeze, she expresses her love for him. It is important to note that the last time these to would-be lovers spoke she first declared her long denied love for him. Han replied to her “I love you” with “I know”. However Leia shows no fear of rejection while expressing her strong feelings. The pinnacle of Leia’s power is seen at the climax of fight against Jabba’s forces at the Pit of Carcoon. When Jabba died it is not at the hands of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker; it is neither the space pirate Han Solo nor his Wookie companion who destroys this vile gangster. No, it’s the powerful slave princess, Leia. She throws the very chain which bound her around Jabba’s neck. Straddling the caucus of Jabba, Leia embodies the sexuality, power, and beauty that is woman.

The Star Wars Posts Episode V Boba's Bounty

When Darth Vader wanted to capture Han Solo and his companions aboard the Millennium Falcon he turned to bounty hunters. Although he had the entire resources of the Empire at his disposal, he felt that independent private sector would be more effective. Enter Boba Fett, who would prove him right.
Han Solo successfully evaded the Imperial Fleet. Little did they know he attached his ship to the hull of one of the Star Destroyers. When the fleet broke up, to pursue the Falcon’s likely destinations, Fett stood at a crossroads and took a chance. He allowed his competition a head start in their pursuit so that he could investigate the origin of the hunt. His decision proved wise.
Boba Fett was able to contact Darth Vader and head Han Solo and company off at Bespin’s Cloud City. Even though Boba had delivered Solo to Vader, his work was not yet done. Boba would be able to collect another bounty for Solo’s capture. Vader wanted to use Solo as bait to lure in Luke Skywalker. Vader also would use Solo as a guinea pig for the carbon freezing process intended for Luke Skywalker. Although he was dealing with the second most powerful man in the galaxy and one bad mother fucker, Boba had to assert himself. Even as Vader put the screws to his deal with Lando Callerissian, he ceded to Fett’s concerns and agreed to compensate Fett for damage to Solo.
What lesson can we learn from Boba Fett’s example as we toil in the private sector? Work smart not hard. Take chances, they pay off. Assert yourself; and take two paydays for one days work whenever possible.