Category Archives: Lucubrations

I’m no military tactician. However, I think I could do better than launching over a dozen ballistic missiles at my enemy’s bases and succeeding only in killing dozens of my own citizens along with over a hundred other civilians. All of those lives lost. And not one of them was Rose McGowan. #McIdiot

N.P.: “Last Resort & Spa” – Battle Tapes

These endless 20-hour days! My God, dear reader…how long can this absurdity continue? It’s unnatural. Perverse. I need a vacation. A medically induced coma. A chasmic propofol nap. But I’m not going to get one. Nothing even on the horizon. Jesus.

P.P.: “Left Me For Dead” – Rob Dougan

What a fascinating day. Extremely challenging, but fascinating. Ya never know what’s going to happen. And it’s still going. So I’ve gotta run. Also, fuck Michael Moore.

N.P. “Blood” – OSI

For our purposes here, dear reader, I generally maintain two lists: People I Want to Fight, and The Honor Roll. The names on the People I Want to Fight list are myriad and while those on The Honor Roll are all too few. Thankfully, there is a new name to add to The Honor Roll today: Ricky Gervais. I’ve always been a fan, but what he did to Hollywood last night, sans lube, warmed my heart and caused my aorta to snicker. His entire monologue and commentary throughout the Golden Globe Awards was absolutely brilliant, but these sentences in particular earn him a permanent place on The Honor Roll:

“So if you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a platform to make a political speech. You’re in no position to lecture the public about anything. You know nothing about the real world. Most of you spent less time in school than Greta Thunberg. So if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent, and your God, and fuck off, okay?”

I rarely say this, but I could not have said it better myself. That was fucking beautiful. If ever I’m at the same bar as he is, Mr. Gervais drinks for free.

N.P.: “Wicked Game” – Alunah

Time is doing unacceptable things, dear reader. It’s speeding up almost daily, and I find this troubling. If this keeps up much longer, I’m going to be dead soon. If you have any suggestions for slowing down or in any way overcoming time, message me.

Didn’t write a word today. I went to a mall. I would have rather written than to have gone to the mall. Tomorrow will be better on all fronts: far more writing, exactly no malls.

N.P.: “Big Hollow Man” – Danielle Dax

Colin Kaepernick is a no-talent, priveledged ingrate dipstick who can’t get a job and just spends his days bagging on the country that gave him everything he has and he can fuck right off too.

N.P.: “Monoliths” – Maserati

Rose McGowan can fuck right off. If it were up to me, I’d have her up against a wall, shot as a traitor. But calmer voices have prevailed. So I’m calling for revocation of citizenship and deportation back to that from whence she came.

Dear #Ireland,
This ignorant ginch has disrespected our country, our flag, our people, and we’re sending the ho home. For this, we humbly apologize, but this bitch can’t live here no mo. We want peace with your nation. We are being held hostage by no-talent hacks that the more simple-minded of our society seem to pay attention to. We do not know how to escape. So, as mentioned supra, we’re just sending her back. No returns, please. #Guinness

N.P.: “Hey Man, Nice Shot” – Filter

Didn’t do much writing today. I didn’t do much except make wings. Not bad for a first attempt. This Instant Pot is amazing. It can do anything. It can, I shit you not, sterilize surgical instruments. It is such a relief to know that if I suddenly have to operate on a guest who’s over for my delicious 15-minute wings, they can now rest assured knowing that I’m using sterile instruments.
This thing can allegedly make chocolate cake. I might give that a shot later on tonight. I’m pretty sure that with only a few minor modifications, I can turn this into a still to make desk whiskey. My God…imagine it, dear reader…yrs. truly, sitting at this very desk, composing culture-shifting prose between bites of my homemade wings, washing it all down with a belt or two of homemade desk whiskey. Hot damn. I like this decade already.

N.P.: “Magdalena” – A Perfect Circle