Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

dude-wait-what-stoned-kitty-pedro-8122726Today seems like a good day to write about something positive, to skip over such icky subjects like homeless people, Political crap and other misfits trying to rule the world, natural disasters at a seemingly increasing level but we all know that climate change is a myth, and other crap hitting the media door right now.

So today, my friends, I decided to write about happy butterflies but apparently Google thinks happy butterflies equals stoned kitties and why not.

I wish I was stoned right now.

It would help in my writing, like:

FOLLOWERS, TO THE READY, LET US DEFEND OUR DEFENSELESS POSITIONS ON THINGS, WE ARE YOUR NIGHTMARE DRESSED IN PRETTY DREAMS, TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!

I don’t really feel like writing poetry or a serious posts, though, those do get hits from my general followers and Google searchers alike.

Hi Google searchers, how are you?

Fine?

Awesome!! Me too!!!

“Really?”

Yes I am!! I overdosed my diet Coke with many shots of energy stuff at the soda fountain and am feeling awesome.

“Awesome!”

Course, I made the mistake of turning over to the news and well, my buzz is still going, thank you very much!!!

So anyways, glad you’re still breathing and I am too!!!

Good night and have a better tomorrow, your friend,

ME!

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In Hell we build, to death we give in dishonor.

Universal Date:10,500,000 DC(During Crisis)
Location: Earth Reflection – After Mission 2.7 – Earth is filled with slutty dolphins

Captain D’Xalare – Mission Commander Reporting –

The Earth was dead, the only thing left, humanity, the parasite, still suckling on its mother’s tits angrily,  still draining its life as she laid dead on the blackness of the universe.

Humanity, an evil race, killing each other in the name of love and peace, over such silly details as the color of their skin or their worship of an imaginary deity, some even worshiped the same God but their words were translated differently.

Worthless reasons to kill each other, the Vogons only kill over the huckleberry found on this otherwise worthless planet.

We, the True Race, found this planet on a routine mission to study its true ruling specie, the pigeon when we discovered this lovely treat, its jam being a elixir of sexual delight.

The inferior of our species, the Moron, tried to mate with the berry directly staining their antenna blue.

Stupid Morons.

We, the Galaxon, ate of the berry and was amazed, delighted, then aroused and mated right on the spot with what the “Earthlings” call a “Dolphin”.

A very wonderful trip I had to say and noted it so in my diary of said mission.

Recommendation to Counsel: I truly recommend that this planet be stripped of the wonderful berries and the dolphins be saved.

The rhinoceros and elephants of this world are a nasty breed and have been known to charge and kill other species who intend to mate with them in a peace keeping mission such as ours.

The humans of this world will enjoy the process for awhile then becomes angered in a short order.

We recommend further that the world be destroyed as it has been declared “Hostile” and therefore ready to be demolished to be replaced by an on ramp to Worm Hole 789!

 

Butte – A grand city of bars and prostitutes, according to a random tourist at the Safeway store.

Well okay she didn’t say grand.

I can’t say what she called Butte.

We were someplace around “The Pit” when the drugs began to take hold.

I kid.

There were no drugs, not even a we, except for my imaginary friends.

I was drinking whiskey and cokes in a room at the Motel 6 in Uptown Butte.

In a few days, I’ll be leaving Butte for the 2nd greatest city in my life, Louisville, Kentucky.

Butte is the city that made me who I am today.

A drunken writer.

I’ll miss this town.

She isn’t for everybody.

But maybe that’s what makes her so great.

She isn’t a typical tourist trap.

She ain’t no beauty but she has a huge heart and a brilliant beautiful soul.

She is pock marked hard with a long mining history.

But without Butte, a lot of “better” cities in Montana and even the USA wouldn’t even exist.

Many family fortunes would not have been gained off the backs of the Butte miners.

My grandfather being one of them miners.

He raised a family here.

His son, my dad, Rudy Giecek, saved part of Butte’s “wanted to forget” piece of history, The Dumas Brothel which he bought from the last madam, Ruby Garrett back in 1990.

He kept trying to save it till 2012 when his health finally wouldn’t let him.

Me?

I just write about her.

A lady, a tourist, came through another checker’s line at my store.

She was pissed.

“There’s nothing but bars and prostitutes in this town!!”

She had read on some website that Butte was a great town to bring kids.

She stormed out of the store yelling about giving Butte a negative review on Yelp.

I think Butte should market her bars and prostitutes.

And our casinos.

We have the best casinos.

No, I don’t know which bars have the best prostitutes.

I was once hit on at a bar by a mother of the bride to be.

We were both pretty drunk.

I almost went with her on a bar cruise but instead I stumbled off my bar stool and wandered off.

I fell into the Blacktail Creek instead.

My fiancee laughed at that story.

Butte should be marketed as a writer and artist colony.

Wander the streets and the alleys and discover the real Butte.

Its heart and soul.

Butte is a historic town.

And yes she is still rough from her years of mining.

But she will always be my city, my hometown.

I love her bars and prostitutes.

And okay, she has some pretty good people in general.

Remember to “Tap ‘er light” and see ya later Butte, I’ll be back!

I’ve always been horrible at goodbyes.

I have traveled somewhere and got lost in a book store once. It may have been in Lexington, Kentucky. It was wonderful!

I need to write tonight, I am very tired, not necessarily physically, mostly mentally!

I’m trying to be a good boy, I didn’t kill anyone today!

I may have beaten some customer with a loaf of day old french bread and may have shoved a ten pound turkey up their butt.

Cashiers can get cranky when they skip nap time and then have a customer screech, “This turkey should have rang up at $12.95, not $12.96.”

DO YOU FEEL THE PENNY NOW MY FRIEND!!!!  I scream, shoving pennies by the bucket full down their throats. I AM RHAK, WARRIOR GOD!!! DIE PAGAN FILTH!!!

This gets you a visit to HR.

“Do you think that it was appropriate to scream….” reads transcript from the video surveillance “You have awaken the evil inside of me that has slept for a thousand years!?”

I shrug and then reply, “Maybe, the entire scene needs to be viewed in its entirety, it’s a master piece in English Norse Theater!”

“Does shoving a bottle of $18.45 wine down the customer’s throat while screaming, TO THE WHORES OF YOUR MOTHER’S WOMB compile into this theater script?”

I nod.

“We’ve had 58 complaints today about you!”

I smile.

“That’s down from yesterday, gotta admit, it’s an improvement!”

“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!!”

Also, my brains are turning to mush.

People don’t realize the fun of being a cashier.checker.dragon slayer.

We stand there for hours, scanning your otter pops, control top pantyhose, and $4.95 a box condoms.

“Pick up a pregnancy test as well, same aisle!” I smile, fake of course. Checkers don’t have real smiles, just like they don’t have souls anymore.

They sold theirs for a box of cereal.

I sold mine for some Raisin Bran.

Nummy for the raisin bran!!

Course, standing there, you get to think, deep thoughts, deep, deep thoughts, like —

  • I really must have done something wrong in a previous life, maybe killed a whole bunch of babies. Maybe I was Hitler. Or a Pharaoh of Egypt, one of the evil ones, who killed a whole bunch of babies.
  • Why did I go to college for?  “Hot babes, lots of drugs!” my brain responds.
  • Do cashiers really get laid a lot like the recruiter said?
  • What is “Getting laid”? Will I ever see a really life naked vagina again?
  • “Probably not, loser!” my brain responds. “You should have stayed in school, became a doctor of literature or underwater basket weaving.

Seeing my old professor from my college days brought back some of those memories, of college frat parties, girls, girls, men, men, more men, no wait, wrong flashbacks!!!
Professor was head of the humanity department, I took his history of the 20th century world, and learned to question authority or do drugs.

I don’t remember.

If you remember college, you did it wrong.

Or maybe that was the 1960s.  I forget.

“Hi! Been a long time!!” I said.

He beamed.  “Did you take my classes, what was your name again?”

I told him.

“I remember you, you were the smart ass in seat 7 row A!”

I nodded.

We both laughed.

I told him about my adventures as an IT monkey for the mafia or a casino in the middle of a corn field, my descent into madness AKA retail.

“You should write a book!! I’m working on one!” he nodded and then we had to part ways.

It’s always nice to see old professors and teachers so they can see where their prized students landed.

“You were my hope…” one of them almost cried at me, running away in tears.

If I’m your hope, you’re f*cked!

I wasn’t his real hope, he was going senile, his wife explained to me later, but if it made me feel better, worst, whatever, then go ahead and believe it.

I’m a hope!!!

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On the Road to Lake Mahaka – 1986 – A semi true story

1986, June, my friends, John “Hawk” and Francis, decided to take a trip, our first road trip on our own, no fathers, no mothers, just us and the open road, heading to Lake Mahaka out in the wilderness.

17 and full of life, men on a journey to find themselves, the call of the wild.

We howled as we packed our clean underwear and such into the back of the truck.

“Do you have enough sandwiches?” my mom asked, as all moms do.

“We don’t need sandwiches! We are going to live off the land!!” I said, thumping my chest and grunting.

“I’ve put some sandwiches in the truck for you!” she said, sighing and then laughing softly.

I sighed.

We took off towards the horizon, our eyes filled with ideas of mountain men tales; fishing for the big trout in the lake, sweet raspberries for dessert.

“Did anyone bring a tent?”Hawk said as we were passing mile marker 75.

No one had.

“We won’t need a tent! We are rugged men!!” I said, grunting, a manly grunt.

Mile marker 85, the horrid sound of a police siren.

I pulled over.

“Boys, do you realize how fast you were going?” the officer said as he stood by the window.

“Uh, no officer…”

He sighed.

“I’m going to give you a warning, this time, but slow it down! You boys going fishing?” he said, looking in the back of the truck.

“We’re on a trip, rugged mountain men!!” we all said, grunting.

The officer smiled.

“Be careful out there boys, don’t die!!” he laughed and headed back to his police car.

We wouldn’t die!! We were men, manly men, hair on our chests, a few hairs on our chins.

We even had beer in the color; five cans!

Mile marker 95.

“I have to pee!! Pull over!” Francis whined.

“No! Hold out!” I growled.

“I can’t!!”

I sighed and pulled over.

And before I stopped, we heard a psst.

“Flat!” Hawk growled.

No spare.

Our luck was going down hill.

15 miles to nearest gas station and a phone.

We flipped a coin to see who would hike back to the station.

Hawk lost.

“Shit!”

A few hours later, a truck drove by and stopped.

“Uh…” Hawk hopped out, “My dad has a tire but it going to take him awhile to get here….”

“How long?”

“Not till tomorrow morning!”

We were still 75 miles from our camp site.

“Are we real men yet?” Francis almost cried.

“Shaddup!”

Two of us hunkered down in the front seat of the truck, the sleeping bags gathered about us as we tried to fall asleep in an awkward position.

Francis won the back of the truck, in the bed.

2 am his won turn into a loss.

Thunder storm, 3 hours, he shivered in the shower, soaked to the bone.

“Next time, I’ll sleep under the truck!” he growled in the morning, trying to shaking himself dry, failing miserably.

A few minutes later, Hawk’s dad showed.

“How are the real men doing?” he almost laughed.

We almost cried.

Tired changed.

“What do you wanna do?” I asked the other two.

“GO HOME!!” they shouted in unison.

We were on our way home without debate!!!

10:46 PM – 5/16/2017: Butte, Montana

It’s dark outside and raining.

Soon, according to the weather man, the rain will turn to snow.

We’re under a winter storm watch.

Welcome to the spring times in the Rockies, it’s a great place to live but not if you like the warm tropical breezes.

I guess you can pretend, sit out on a snow bank and pretend it’s a nice comfy beach.

Frost bite just doesn’t equate to sun tan, trust me on that!!!

I’m sitting here watching The Golden Girls and listening to some YouTube.

Andrew_Jackson-ABI wanted to post something less political than my last few other blogs.

I know there’s stuff happening over there in Washington, DC.

Our president, Donald Trump, in his late night wanderings around the White House is probably throwing his hands in the air, ranting to the ghost of Andrew Jackson.

“Why won’t they like me, Mr. Jackson?” he says pounding the desk in front of him

“I don’t know!! Maybe it’s your face!” Andrew replies, sipping a diet Coke.

President Jackson was apparently a dick in life, so what do you expect from him in death.

I know I said this blog entry was going to be less political but I can’t help it.

It’s just so much easier to write about the current political mess than it is to write about my feelings, my depression, my love of musical theater.

18556267_10158871450295294_5078773635501260390_nI may do that soon, like, my reviews on plays and stuff, if I ever go out to plays and such.

Maybe soon, I’ll hit the movies again, with my imaginary friends, like Anna Lope.

She’s a cool mounted head of a antelope who loves war movies!!

“I love it when the tanks roll, the bombs burst in air, and Tom Cruise comes to rescue me!”

But for tonight, here I sit, in a lounge recliner, watching Fraiser now, Combichrist – Everybody Hates You Full album Disc 1 is playing from YouTube – This Shit will fuck you up.

Sounding like a sound track of my life, this shit WILL fuck you up, like reading my blog, your mind will melt, you will see stuff, like ghosts, spirits, Ann Landers on acid, etc. etc.

I don’t even know what I’m writing about tonight, it’s just stuff drifting inside my head, the weird stuff, the normal stuff, life is there, wondering what I should do now, where should I go from here, maybe Detroit?

Well, okay, maybe not Detroit, though it does have some cheap housing.


Am I enjoying life?


6548847483_8dea35ddc9_bI don’t know how to answer that question.

I’m trying to be a happier individual, someone that people enjoy being around, rather, like my ex, running away from me in terror as I approach them.

I’m a people person, I like people!!

Not really, I tolerate people, for the most part, and they tolerate me.

I haven’t killed anyone, that can be proven, by a court of law.

I did write a blog dedicated to Jack Kerouac – found here ->

Jack Kerouac: Where are you now? A retrospect of my life in words and music.

I’ve also written horrible poetry and song lyrics which one can be found here —–>

PHOTOGRAPH: MEMORIES AS SUNG IN A DREAM

Here I sit, wondering what the next adventure should be, where should I go, down the hill or up the mountain?

Where should I go?

To Hell or back?

I try to keep my mask on, to never let the general public see me cry, try to keep the happy clown mask on.

Why?

Guess it’s just how I am!

87b613ba42b812669526d2f389f55082How the voices in my head want me to be, they don’t want the doctors coming around, to quiet them.

“Shaddup Jason! Don’t let them see you, as the real you! They’ll put you away into the nut house!! We no wanna go there!!”

Choirs in my head, nobody wants to go in there, inside my head.

I have a feeling President Donald Trump is the same way, no one wants to go inside his head either.

Hell, I know I don’t want to be inside my own head, which is what makes this blog so great, you, the reader get to come on inside without going inside!!

Selective travels!!

Come hear the voices inside my head!!!!

I’ll try to write more here than I have in the past!!!

As the real me!!!

The drag queen!

Anyways, another good night and have a better tomorrow!!!

5/16/2017 – Somewhere, USA

Donald_Trump_official_portrait_(cropped)The next day of disclosure by the “fake media” that Trump MAY have disclosed classified information to the Russians, he went on the offense, blaming those who disclosed what had been said at the meeting and stating “Naner naner poo poo butt!! I’m the President, I can do anything I want!!”

He also apparently justified his disclosure as a lead into defeating ISIS which is important no doubt but serious damage could be done in our relationship to those who gave us that information, which, apparently was Israel.

We tried to call Israel in an attempt to get an interview but all we got was a cleaning firm in London, England.

“Israel not here, on lunch, want to leave a message?”

We didn’t.

The White House once more threw out its defense of “It’s all fake!! FAKE!! HEAR US!?!?!” which hardly works even for a 3 year old who blew up the Walmart.

We here at Wandering Where I am Going want to believe President Trump isn’t that stupid but every day is a new vision into a office that is not only in disrepair but already sunk into the murky waters.

Lets stay tune for more of the reality show that would be awesome, if, it wasn’t real!!!

Maybe tomorrow, President Trump will get his tax or health care reform out there.

Yeah, I know, that ain’t going to happen!!

Good night and have a better tomorrow!