Originally written: June 27, 2011
I wrote this about year ago when I was still down in Venice...
I fuckin’ hate bikers.
Now I’m not talking about Motorcycle Clubs like the Hell’s Angels, the Mongols, and Bradenton’s own “beloved” Renegades. I’m talking about bicyclists. What my personal hero Denis Leary refers to as Bike Assholes.
My good friend and former drummer, Craig Machine is a cycling enthusiast. He actually competes semi-professionally in bike races all over Florida. And hey, that’s cool. It’s kept him in the best shape of his life, and barring…certain incidents…has kept him in great health.
I, myself, used to enjoy a good ride once in awhile. It was even my main form of transportation for a few months. But unfortunately I had a bad accident out on 301 Blvd where I almost died cuz it was dark as fuck and I tumbled over a damn culvert. Also, since my kneecap exploded, riding a bicycle is actually quite painful.
You see, in my quaint little neighborhood of South Venice, we have this queer little bike club that likes to ride up and down the main fuckin’ highway a couple times a week. I myself have had a run in with them that broke down to a shouting match with me telling them to stay off the main goddamn roadway.
There’s a nice big park in my ‘hood called Shamrock Park that they can ride around in all fuckin’ day. The County has spent untold thousands of dollars building the “Legacy Trail” that goes from the Park all the way to Clark Road and McIntosh. That’s 20 fucking miles of pathway for them to ride their gay little bikes without disrupting traffic, or possibly getting creamed by some teenage shithead doing 50 miles per hour down Shamrock Drive.
And that’s not even the half of it. There’s also hundreds of miles of backroad they can ride on, that gets very little traffic. I know this because I grew up in this area, and I know those backroads by heart having ridden them for over 10 years. And in that time I was never once hit by a car.
The reason I bring this up is that there was some kind of Traffic Meeting sometime last week or so concerning the speed limit on Shamrock Drive. From what I understand they’re probably going to lower it to, like 25 MPH from the perfectly safe 30 MPH.
Now I don’t really mind them lowering the speed limit. Sure, in my own teenage years I used to barrel down the road like the proverbial “Bat Out of Hell”. However, since I’ve grown up (and got sick of getting speeding tickets) I’ve kept my speed down. Hey, there are children who live on this street, and I live here, too.
If the city or county or whoever is in charge of this particular ‘burg is honestly concerned with the safety of the people who populate this neighborhood, then sure, I’m all for it.
I’m pretty sick of people hauling balls thru my neck of Shamrock, causing property damage and noise pollution. I once watch some assclown plow thru my neighbor’s mailbox with zero compunction to stop and make restitution. Actually that was kinda funny, but goddammit, this is my neighborhood, and what if some pedestrian was walking there? There are a lot of them cuz the Park is right across from my house.
However, if they’re only lowering the speed limit cuz some faggot-ass special interest group wants to ride their bikes on the highway, then FUCK THAT. These people don’t really live here. These are rich assholes from Stonehaven, or Chestnut Creek or the Island who come over here to ride their fucking bikes down my road. I’m sorry, but that is bullshit.
I don’t go to their pissant fucking neighborhoods and tell them what to do, so don’t come to mine. At all.
This really just boils down to one of my major personality points. I hate rich people. It’s these rich fucks with their $6000 dollar custom bikes, their skin tight yellow body suits, and goofy-ass helmets who have nothing better to do than harass regular blue-collar people and start throwing their weight around with the local government.
Hey fuck-face, we live here, you don’t, so stay the fuck home.
Right at this moment they’re completing a bridge over the US 41 By-pass to connect the south end of the Legacy Trail to the north end. So they’re tying up traffic on a MAJOR highway just so rich douche-bags can travel from one end of the county to the other. Isn’t that enough for you people?
No, of course it isn’t.
I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m gearing up to move away from the shit-splat town forever. But it’s the goddamn principle. Fucking rich assholes…
ThanXXX for reading, and sorry for the gay epithets. I promise, I don’t hate gay people. Just rich people.
-------------------------------------------Jaymz
Originally Published: Dec, 2009
Current Mood: bored
Let me tell you a story...
What seems like a lifetime ago, I had a friend who worked at the (now defunct) Main Street Bookshop. The girl I was dating at the time also worked there with her, but I'm not going to get into that. But we used to visit from time to time, bug the hell out of our friend and ask her where we could find Clown Themed Erotica.
Hilarious.
One day, while perusing the front entry way and petting the kitties who used to live there, there was a giant stack of books sitting next to a chair. It was all the same book (what the industry calls Rock Bottom Remainders - thanxxx SK!!) and it was the size of a fucking bible.
The title of this piece of literature was the Crimson Petal and the White, and there was a sign sitting next to the pile saying something along the lines of "For Sale 5 cents". This is a nearly nine hundred (900) page novel for a fucking nickel. Written all over this book are words of praise, such as:
NATIONAL BESTSELLER (written in bold capitals at the top of the book)
"A big, sexy, bravura novel. Wildly entertaining" -so says the New York Times book critic.
Harvest Reading Guide
New York Times Notable Book
Named a Best Book of the Year (2002 is when it was published) by People (there's a reputable news outlet) Entertainment Weekly and the Chicago Tribune.
It also received much praise from such publications as TIME, the Boston Globe, the Seattle Time, USA Today, the Financial Times (London), the Miami Herald, Bookpage, the Onion (another fine reputable news source), the Guardian, and Booklist.
And that's not even half of the newspapers and magazines giving it hugely positive reviews. In all there were 37 different news outlets referenced. THIRTY-SEVEN. In a Row!!! And if I may digress a little, my paperback copy of Needful Things, a masterpiece written by one of the greatest and most popular American writers of the 20th Century Mr. Stephen King, has a mere 5 positive reviews published within the cover. Albeit, I believe my copy is possibly a second or third edition, my First Edition Paperback copy of the Drawing of the Three (also Mr. King) has 4. That's it.
My point is, someone along the line somewhere, fucked up. Obviously the author, Michael Faber, is not really as good as these book critics would have you believe.
But back to the story...
I was buying some other book, possibly Breakfast of Champions by the late and awesomely great Kurt Vonnegut on recommendation from previously mentioned friend, and I figured, what the Hell. I coughed up my nickel and purchased the Crimson Petal and the White.
As many of my readers know, I'm a full on book nerd. I fucking read the shit out of 'em. And because of my current situation (no job, no TV, no life) I have the opportunity to read pretty much night and day. Which, of course, I do.
This book sat next to my bed for fucking ages. Along with my copy of Charles Dickens’ Bleak House, which I got two or three paragraphs into and gave the fuck up. When I moved, I packed many of my books away into a giant Rubbermaid tub and haven't fucked with them since. Well, I've been reading pretty much all the books my father has lying around that seem to interest me including re-reading the Dark Tower Saga (backwards, with the new version of the Gunslinger) and my entire Chuck Palahniuk collection.
I was up in Bradenton one night, and decided to grab some books out of my estranged library. After debating with myself, I finally decided it was high time I sat down and read this book I had purchased (for 5 cents) so many years ago. And I did.
Oh dear lord it was one of the most boring reads I've ever had. It wasn't Bleak House, but Christ Almighty it was damn close. And you know what the problem was? No discernible plot. It was like Wuthering Heights or Days of Our Lives: 19th Century England Style. Sure it had loads of drunks and whores, but it just kept going on and on from character to character with no clue as to where it was going.
Now I can tolerate that in a movie, especially if there are great characters I can identify with, but in a long novel with no good characters? Not so much. Not a single redeeming character I could identify with, just a bunch of selfish conniving bastards, the lot of them. Well, except for the main characters brother who was a Hardcore Christian, and only wanted to help people and spread the word of Jesus. And he got killed in a house fire that was completely glossed over in the story. Just one minute, he's in the arms of the woman he loves and the next chapter, dead. Lame.
The book was so fucking mind numbing that I stopped about a quarter of the way through and read Stephen King's IT (which, at almost 900 pages, is one of his longest works along with the Stand, the Tommyknockers and Needful Things) as well as Richard Bachman's the Regulators. It was only after that, that I had the courage to pick up Crimson Petal... and finish the son-of-a-bitch.
My point...well, I guess I don't have one. I dunno, I was bored and wanted to tell this story.
ThanXXX for reading. And keep reading...
===============Evil Jaymz============
There’s a lot that I don’t understand in life. Physics, investment banking, women, how to make my word processor to stay on Arial font size 14... But something recently has gotten me thinking.
Bar hopping. I don’t fuckin’ get it.
You see, when I go out, I go to one place and plan to stay for the duration of the evening. The next time I get into my car should theoretically be to go home, jerk-off and go to bed. That is, unless there’s a sweet after party somewhere. Preferably Erik!’s house. But it seems to me that many of my friends go out and plan to hit 4 or more local establishments in one evening. That seems awfully silly to me. Not to say I’m not guilty of it myself, it’s just not my usual modus operandi.
I’m not the guy who usually carries cash on me. As much of a Luddite that I am, I’ve embraced the concept of the debit card. This comes from my impatience at bar inefficiency. Anything I can do to help the bartender to quickly get my drink and get the fuck out of there helps me enjoy my night more. (speaking of which, if ever own or operate an establishment I’m gonna institute a 3 foot section where you get your drink, pay, and move out. No fuckin’ parking.)
ANYWAYS There are primarily only 2 or 3 places I frequent anymore. McCabe’s Irish Pub, InCahoots, and Clancy’s Irish Sports Pub, all located in Bradenton, FL. Bar hopping to these establishments is absolutely inefficient (and possibly dangerous) as they are literally spread out all the way across town and I fucking hate driving cuz It’s time spent “not having a good time” so Fuck That.
Sure, I could spend the evening in Downtown, but I really dislike the other bars there, especially on a weekend cuz the places are wall to wall d-bags who want to listen to Buckcherry and Sublime all fuckin’ night. That and it takes twenty minutes to get a Pabst and that’s too goddamn long to wait for cheap beer. So if I go, I stay at McCabe’s, get hammered and drive home which is quite literally 4 minutes away. I timed it using Billy Joel as a reference. I’m a nerd.
InCahoots…halfway across town, Clancy’s, the other half. And going home I have to go thru the intersection at Manatee Ave. and 15th Street. I despise that intersection so fucking much. But, I deal with it to visit Trixie or Kelly and the rest of the gaggle that I call friends. And it’s fun. Most of the time.
Another thing that bothers me about bar hoppers is I do karaoke. I take it kinda seriously to the point that I’ve been called a karaoke snob. That’s an entirely different rant altogether. But when I go to say, McCabe’s on a Tuesday night, there’s often quite a line-up, which can be a great thing. But when a small crowd of drunk ass-clowns comes in, crowds up the space at the bar, then crowds up the karaoke rotation, I’m not only waiting an extra 10 minutes for my PBR or wine spritzer (whichever mood I’m in that particular occasion) but now I’m waiting an extra hour and a half during the prime part of the night to sing my next song.
These people come in, buy one drink a piece, insist on getting up to sing and they’re not only most of the time terrible, but their song choices are an abysmal example of shitty goddamn taste. Please, I don’t want to hear your rendition of “Santeria” or Heaven forbid, “Bohemian-fucking-Rhapsody”… And for the love of God (or Allah or Ganesha…) please stop hollering out shit like “941!! Represent!!” You’re a fucking white, frat-boy douche-bag, so go to the Roo or the Distillry and fucking stay there.
However, there have been times that I go out and I’m not really…I dunno…feeling the place, as they say in the parlance of our times. I’ve been known to leave and check out another joint. Hopefully it happens quickly, but I’ve seen the mood of a place change sometimes mid-way thru the night. Usually if I haven’t found my niche by say, 11:30 pm, I call it a night, go home and watch Gummi Bears. There have been times I spent almost an entire evening at McCabe’s, lost interest and slid on down to Cahoots and had more fun in the last hour than that whole previous 4 or 5. It happens…and it bugs me.
But them’s the breaks, and I always feel like I miss out on the really fun parties else where, but dammit I’m not acquiescing to this sort of behavior. Driving sucks, and I’m not spending my time doing that rather than just parking my ass in one place and drinking till I can’t feel feelings anymore.
Maybe it’s just me, and maybe I’m an asshole. I’ve been called worse by better. I just don’t understand it, and I’m gonna stand up and say bar hopping is not the way things should be. Bring me another wine spritzer.
Thanks for reading…
--------------------------------------Evil Jaymz
Originally published: October 29, 2009
Current Mood: cantankerous
After reading the complete Dark Tower Saga (not really in order, but including both the original and revised version of the Gunslinger) and watching Sergio Leone's Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More, I'm in a very Western mindset. Just today, I finished Wolves of the Calla, which is an analogy to the Magnificent Seven (which itself is an adaptation of Akira Kurisawa's the Seven Samurai...I'm such a geek.).
I watched the classic westerns and realized that today's movies fucking suck. Seriously. I could regale you with my review of Transformers (2007) again, but why bother. I haven't seen the sequel yet, but should soon. I'm of course, not paying for it, cuz I honestly don't want Stephan Spielberg getting anymore of my money.
But just last night, my father and I sat down to watch some movies. One of the movies was Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. The other was the Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
I, of course, have seen "Episode III" before (I was actually shanghaied to go see the premiere. At the old outside theatre at Sarasota Square. Those were the days...) but I wanted to see it again, cuz it's been a few years. That and I watched the Holy Trilogy a few months back.
I had never seen "Treasure" before, but my father has had a habit lately of grabbing old movies from the library and we'd watch them together. Just before he left [for South Dakota], we watched To Have or Have Not, which like this movie, also starred Humphrey Bogart (It was also the first film teaming Bogey with Lauren Bacall, whom he eventually married...I. Am. A. Geek.).
But I must say, Treasure of the Sierra Madre is a much better film. By fucking light years. It also won 2 Academy Awards (for Best Director: John Huston and Best Supporting Actor: Walter Huston, the director's father.) which, as quoted in Clerks 2, George "Toy Boy" Lucas has never and will never, win. Bones...oh, sick burn.
It's just that Episode III (along with the other 2 filx) is so fucking cheesy and pandering. Hayden Christiansen is a crappy actor. It's absolutely nothing like the Original 3, with it's massive glory shots and action for the fucking sake of action. And the pandering to the audience with the battle on Kashyyyk, Chewbacca, "Captain Antilles", Senator Mon Mothma (in a deleted scene), it's just terrible. And when Chancellor Palpatine assumes the appearance of what we remember as the Emperor after a fight with Mace Windu (motherfucker!!) that's just too much.
And that's not even counting the opening sequence where Anakin and Obi-wan rescue the Chancellor. When the ship "capsizes" everything turns with it and gets tumbled around. I'm sorry, but that broke my willing suspension of disbelief right off the fucking bat. In outer space, there is no gravity. A fucking 10-year-old could tell you that. On a starship they have "artificial gravity" relative to the ship, not the planet. So when the heroes start tumbling down an elevator shaft, I'm done. See ya.
Interesting enough, the 2 films do have something in common. The main characters of both films go from being the hero to being the villain. I thought that was cool.
But seriously, if you get the chance, watch the Treasure of the Sierra Madre. It's a fucking great movie. It's also the origin of the "We don't need no stinkin' badges" line that's been lampooned over the years by everything from UHF to Salute Your Shorts. Hence the title of the blog.
ThanXXX for reading, and be sure to check out other classic movies instead of giving your money the people who do nothing but remakes and shit.
--------------------------Evil Jaymz-----------------------
