Posts Tagged ‘fun’

Hello one and all, I hope you are all doing well!!

Instead of my usual poetry, I have decided to share with you my other “hobbies” My podcast and its blog!

I know!! Who knew!!???

I knew, cause well.

I like doing podcasts over doing YouTube cause well, I’ve been told I have a face for radio, don’t know whether I should take that as a compliment or not. So anyways, go read the blog here —– and if you want to, go listen to the podcast here

If you click on the blog cast, it lists the other five sites where the podcast is available. If you are looking to do a podcast, I highly recommend It has some wonderful tools to help you on your way. I also been known to frequent a site called Spooncast so there’s another site for ya!

I know, so much information.


Five minutes to midnight, a fiction in the making, but it could be reality.

I was standing by, for a message, from somebody, hoping for a fix, drinking alcohol, trying to forget.

July 12th, 1986, my first time, sex, you know the drill.




Explode into space.

Jesus Christ, that was good, she wasn’t that impressed.

Screw here.

Two weeks later, getting a phone call, she’s pregnant, I could be the father, or some other guy she met at college.

I got spared the agony of defeat, the kid wasn’t mine.

Derek Thompson, second year grad student from Des Moines, you are the father, should have pulled out.

I decide to do a road trip.

1800 miles.

No stop except to pee.


It seem like the right thing to do.

Mary Simpson, half way in, at a local rest stop, I got the blue plate special.

Chicken fried steak. Mash potatoes, country gravy.

She was the waitress. She got off at 8.

I waited. 9 pm. We’re at some 12 dollar a night motel.

Key to the bathroom down the hall costs a buck extra.

Fresh towels in the closet next to the bath room.

Mary and I drink, cheap booze I got from the liquor store in town.

Cashier smiled as he gave me my change.

Mary loves to suck cock.

She tells me so as her head bobs up and down on my hard shaft.

I moan.

Twenty two minutes in, she’s riding my dick, cowgirl, waving her hat, like a good cow girl does!

I moan.

I try to resist.

I fail.

She smiles as I feel my cock explode.

She kisses me, straight on the lips, my cock still buried deep inside her.

We cuddle.

Best thing to do afterwards is to cuddle.

“Do you believe in God?” she says, running her fingers over my chest, twirling them through my chest hair.

I nod.

I saw God as I came, shaking his head, in disapproval.

I committed a sin.

Next day, I gave her my phone number, address, we’d keep in touch.

She smiled.

We kept in touch.

A year later, we were married.

A couple of weeks ago, I got bored, I didn’t feel like writing poetry, nor did I feel like writing a fictional story from the prospective of my belly button and my sites were feeling left out, so I decided to create a whole new project—– ONLY MOVIE REVIEW SITE YOU’LL EVER NEED!! (Click to go to the general site) So far, there’s four movies, of such greatness, you’ll be amazed that you have never heard of them.

This site has been decreed by Facebook to be abusive so it has blocked me from sharing the links (Dark Web kinda hacker site I guess. I do hit some ‘naughty’ pirate sites to find these movies, there’s no way I’m going to pay hard earned nickels and pennies to share my thoughts and feelings and mockery of said films.

Tonight’s movie fest was called Monster: The Prehistoric Project and it’s a classic from Tomcat Films LLC — a film company that is known for it’s wonderful take on big hit movies with a close enough name to confuse people into thinking they are going to watch Jurassic Park or something.

This film directed and acted in by Lisa Palencia is a masterpiece, a combination of Jurassic Park, Girls gone Wild, Blair Witch Project and X-File.

This should have been picture of the year at the Academy Awards 2016 but Hollywood is fickle pickle and needs its art spoon fed to them.

To read my “Full body synopsis/review” of this film —- click here —- and enjoy.

There’s even a link to the full 1 hour and 20 minutes of greatness that is this movie.

If you can stand the intense action that is!! Buhahahahaha!!!

I kid. The movie is bad.

But the acting is good!

Haha! I kid, just awful!!!

Internet Movie Database gave this movie like 1.5 stars out of 10. But what do they know!!

Go watch with somebody you love.

Like your mom.

She’ll probably hate you and disown you but who cares, you only live once right?


Living on cheap wine and Marlon Brando, sweet wine, the stuff would make you want to die, throwing up on some lonely street corner, fifth and Vine.

Worlds were colliding, forced into making up, out, fucked, before being fucked was a thing.

July 5th, I found life on this shit hole planet, not much to write home about, two girls, Jim and Jan, maybe one was a guy, I wasn’t sure as the motley crew of drugs I had taken back in the city were starting to wear off.

“Recharge Mort! Refuckingcharge!” Dave, my travel companion and tax attorney was screaming from the back seat of the car we had stolen back in town.

I tried to remember if I was driving or if the imaginary bunny we had brought along was.

Turned out, nobody was, we were head up, ass down, in some parking lot in front of some dying casino known as the Flying J according to the blinking flashing sign.

“Bell hop!! Our bags!” I said snapping my fingers randomly, towards a midget nearest the door.

He smiled as he flipped us off and we climbed out of the car and into the casino/hotel/bordello.

We got two rooms, one bed, we wouldn’t be sleeping anyways, this was a business trip, to find that meaning of life, in the desert town of where ever we found ourselves.

“Do we have enough drugs?” Dave asked peeking into the large over-sized suitcase we had brought on this adventure.

“We got madness man, pure madness!” I replied popping two red pills and downing them with cheap Canadian beer bought from a Mexican farmer in some backwater town in Alabama.

I don’t remember much after the madness kicked in.

Blurry vision of me, Dave stumbling down the stairs, to the lobby, where the whores stood in line.

“We are not whores dear sir!” one fat ugly whore rambled on.

We weren’t here for the whores, we were here to find the story, the big story, the senator slinking his wet willy into a whore who wasn’t his wife.

Or maybe we were here to kill ourselves.

Dave was hoping for the senator.

He was here to keep me from going too far over the edge, or maybe I was here to keep him from going too far over the edge.

Neither of us knew what the other was for.

We took another hand full of pills.

Crazy mix of colors, for a random effect, later that night we found ourselves in the desert, chasing after pigeons, to communicate with our spirit animal.

I woke up three days later, face down, on some railroad tracks, last train left according to the locals in 1963.

I was 40 years too late, 50 if you knew how to count.

Dave was laying into a plate of hash brown potatoes and puke at some dingy truck stop.

He had left me to die there, hoping I wouldn’t wake up too soon but there I was, asking the waitress for a plate of goo and a cup of coffee to mask the taste of bourbon I was now dumping into a cup of black moldy coffee.

“Honey, you want some eggs and toast?” the waitress burped, fire ants crawling out of her nose.

I shook my head and popped a handful of rainbow colored pills.

“When do we get to Tucson?” I tried to make conversation with Dave who seemingly had left his body to go find a place to take a piss.

“Man, we ain’t going to Tucson!” he finally said, three hours later, as we traveled down the road, the steering wheel being steered by a bat we picked up in Cleveland.

The sign read ‘Truth or Consequences 25 miles’ we didn’t want neither of that so we roared past the turn off, into some purple haze that drifted up from the road, engulfing us in fumes.

“Man where are we going?” Dave looked around trying to get his sense of time and space, the drugs beginning to loosen their gripe.

“Here, take these!” I said throwing him a bag of colored pills I had gotten from my grandmother, a doctor. “You’re losing your reality! We’re heading into badger country man, don’t lose your wits!! They’re animals!!”

35 miles down the road, I lost my mind, it fell out of my ears and dripped onto the highway, trying to crawl out in the desert to find life.

“Oh no you don’t!” I said shoving it back into my head.

We were back on the road, after taking a long needed piss and a scratch.

An over-sized badger strolled up beside us.

“Is this leak taken?”

We all laughed.

It was half past a monkey’s ass by the time we reached Tucson.

A seedy place, Tucson, the kind of place where men are men and the sheep are afraid to pick up the soap.

We were suppose to meet my editor, Jackson, in Tucson, but he never showed.

He gave me some story about being 2 am, showering, sleeping, who the fuck knew.

I hung up the phone.

“So what do we do now?”Dave asked, lining up the coke in neat piled lines, snorting it straight into his spleen.

I shrugged, grabbing a straw, we’d worry about the next day, three days later, and ten whores down.

June 5th, 2019 – Louisville, Kentucky –

HELLLLPS!!! I on Fire!!!!!

Subject: I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me? Part Deux.

I’m sitting here, a thunderstorm watch is in effect till tomorrow late evening, I’m not feeling too great emotionally, could be the atmosphere, but it could be my brain, it starts feeling like a loser and sometimes it’s right.

No worries out there, I’m not suicidal, at least not yet, maybe homicidal.

I’m just sitting here, feeling sorry for myself, I went outside, flipped off the world and came back in.

I have a soda pop, diet Coke, with extra artificial sweeteners added by the Coca-Cola Corporation to keep my rage up and my lust down to a minimum.

I decided to put ‘THE PENGUINS – EARTH ANGEL’ on for some reason.


I’m not even sure what to write here, I just feel like writing, even if nobody reads it.

Sometimes it feels like I’m the last retarded monkey on a planet full of intelligent elephants, stomping through the grass where I’m laying low from them.

“Don’t step on me!” I scream at them.

But they can’t hear me, they’re too busy with their thoughts, their ideas, their MTV.


I think we’re alone now, there’s just you, me and this bottle of wine, take my hand, and lets run through the vortex, into the abyss, while singing, ABBA’s dancing queen (It’s the remix version – techno days, why the hell not, I say!! Join me in tribute!!!)

I kid.

There’s no tribute.

But we can still dance.

Anyways, I just wanted to write something, silly, thoughtful, serious, and just so you can enjoy something yourself….


02/8/2019 — Louisville, Kentucky

Dear K-Mart,

You apparently, along with Sears, have been brought out of bankruptcy, saved by that white knight in rusted armor, Eddie Lampert.

I do not know whether to celebrate, cry, or go eat cookies.

I know it will save jobs but will it truly save you?

For me, in this world of brick and mortar, you have gone away, sold off, closed to pay off billions in debt, sacrificed on the altar of greed by men in slick back hair and pinstripe suits.

Yes, I know your answer to me, will be, I can go to and order my items there, just like I can go to and buy sodas, but, it’s just not the same.

The interaction between people is gone, that’s what made you the best.

Getting chased out of the store by the store manager as I strolled drunkenly through the store trying on dresses at random, not even bothering with a dressing room, these experiences cannot be repeated online!!

The Blue Light is not the same on the web, it’s there, on YouTube, Radio Kmart, which use to blare over head in the store, is also on YouTube but it’s not the same.

I worked for two Kmarts in my career in the retail wars.

My first time was the store in New Albany, Indiana; Grant Line.

I was part of the team that converted the store from a Little K into Big K in the summer of 1998.

We were proud of that store; but I didn’t continue on after the expansion was done, deciding to go work for the mob in their IT department for a casino in Indiana.

I cried like a baby when I heard that my store, it was always my store, had been shut down.

Strangely, I was working at a Kmart in Montana when I got the news.

My second store was in Butte, Montana.

I’ll admit, I screwed the pooch bad and was fired from there, but I still cried when I heard that store was closing in 2018.

I thought Kmart would always be there.

It had always been there for me.

That harbor in the storm; a place I could fall back on, I met friends who I consider family, from my time at Kmart.

Friends who were still working hard for you, my Kmart, even when the doors shut for that last time.

Even a few years ago, if you had told me that Kmart or Toys R Us would have closed forever, death by bankruptcy, I would have laughed.

Giants like that don’t die from mismanagement or such things, they might stumble, lean back a bit, and regroup but never closed.

But closed you did.

I guess the old song is true; you can’t go home again!

You and TRU should be a warning sign to other companies; you can die horrible deaths, you’re not immortal giants, a crack in your base can bring the mighty tower down!!

Kmart; I know you’re just a corporate entity, no heart, no soul, and I know years down the road, no one will go, “Lets go to Kmart…” then pause and remember, Kmart is no more, but I will, I will never forget you.

I should say good luck, to that future, where you will survive, mostly as an online entity; and a few stores of brick and mortar, tucked away in Bumsville, Alabama or Cuba or wherever they keep the lights on, and I will; Good luck Kmart….

Into the future you go!


Your friend,


Things I have learned throughout my life as a blogger — Advice to the future  or How I learned to love myself in the modern age of Dance

A Look inside a Human Machine by Jason Giecek Human at Large

01/21/2019 – Louisville, Kentucky

I started blogging in 2008 on a site called Open.Salon, it was a fun time activity I began after working at a casino ran by the mob (Or Caesars and later Horseshoe) as an IT worker, breaking computers with a hammer or TNT as they wouldn’t reboot properly.

It was a good time to be alive.

I wrote about the crazy thoughts that poured into my skull and out of my fingers at 3 AM, a thing I still practice today except I don’t stay up that late, usually curling up into a ball in my bed at around 1:30 in the AM, still late for some.

Truthfully honest, I’ve been writing for a lot longer than 2008, I actually been writing my entire life, but, very rarely sharing my tomes, except for one girl I knew back in the third grade.

She laughed at me and that’s when I found out, women are cruel witches put on this planet to make men sad and miserable at their “Short comings!”

I kid.

Some were put on this planet to just run men over in their cars.

Moving on.

I discovered early on that in writing, sad depressive pieces sell better.

Not exactly sure why, maybe people like to read about people having more issues than them.

Happy love stories make them think their lives aren’t as good as the writer’s and it makes them sad whereas, they read a sad story, poetry, etc. and they’re like, “At least I’m not that guy!”

It’s like sad movies, sometimes we just need a good cry, get all the pain out of the system.

I will admit, most of my poetry is sad, depression filled words, from a deep dark place that is called me.

Sometimes when I write such things, I’m in happy land, but just picking at old wounds scabbed up.

For some reasons, we as humans like to pick at scabs, open up old wounds, bring up old memories, things that haunt us as we sleep, dream of old loves, loves that never were, etc. etc.

I really suck at letting go.

I think I get that feature from my mother’s side of the gene pool.

Along with me worrying about things I cannot change.

About the little things.

The big deals usually roll off of my back, becoming fertilizer for my writings, there sitting in some chair at 3 am.

Actually, the little things become good fertilizer as well.

I think everything can be used to grow the imagination, except the news, the news sucks!

Nobody likes to read about current events, unless, it’s a spoof of current events.

People love reading funny things about like Senators and Congressmen and sexy governors in lingerie.

The governor’s name?


Anyways, that’s about it, I write to keep from going insane. Well, more insane.

Okay, I write to keep from wandering the streets and get in trouble with the law.

Good night and have a better tomorrow…


WordPress suggested today some “topics” I could write about in my blog.

Most the time, I use this blog to showcase my poetry or my stories about space wars or my true to life (if I made it up) stories about my love life.

But today, not wanting to break the WordPress’ feelings, I will write about philosophy and its meaning as seen through the eyes of a broken and worn out fellow — aka — me!

Are you settled nicely into your nice comfy chair?


Ben Folds Five describes it as:

Won’t you look up at the skyline
At the mortar, block, and glass
And check out the reflections in my eyes
See they always used to be there
Even when this all was grass
And I sang and danced about a high-rise
And you were laughing at my helmet hat
Laughing at my torch

Which, if you break it down, makes absolutely no sense at all in the reference of this blog but adds to the word count which means absolutely nothing, so I intentionally or unintentionally digress into anarchy.


The Internet could be seen as anarchy or a spoiled 23 year old child trapped in 50 year old body.

Or not.

Nobody is really sure and try to discover themselves in a bottle of Jack Daniels, then, only finding ruin like in the town of Las Vegas, Nevada.


Many a person has asked this question, tried to seek it out only to find pain and distrust and hoobled back home to drink more Jack Daniels.

Love bites.

Love hurts.

Love is a second hand emotion.


(I have no clue!)


Nobody really knows but they do know they want it, they desire it, and sometimes, they get it without even knowing it as in “My boss really gave it to me in the butt today!”

Yes, masturbating to the weather channel is a form of sex and yes, you will go to Hell for it because you made Jesus cry.

So there you go, philosophy in a nutshell, a blog, if you will. I hope you enjoyed and if you didn’t, remember, your mom might kinda sorta like you, but love?


Back even in my childhood, people did not have the wonder and curse that is Facebook or the Internet as we have come to know it.

Back then, if you wanted to share you recipe for chocolate cake with your good friend, Anne, you had to pull out your recipe cards, type it up or write it down on a piece of paper and then physically give it to her, we had to have contact in a personal space.

Was it better?

Not really in some cases, to hide from people, you actually had to hide.

“Don’t answer the phone, I don’t want to talk to your grandma!” 

Nowadays, it’s called, “Don’t like your grandma’s post,she’ll know we’re online instead of at the doctor’s office like I told her we would be! If she asks, you have the mumps!”

Back in the olden days, you had to remember things, like your kids’ birthdays or your parents’ anniversary but nowadays, there’s an app for that, seriously.

We have become connected more than ever; which is good, bad, and indifferent.

Back in the day, if you wanted to “Share” your life altering story about the time you discovered peanut butter as a sex toy, you had to bring out the pen and paper, write it down and then wander down to the Safeway store bulletin board and pin it there, where it might be read by ten people before the management took it down and banned you from shopping there for 30 days.

Nowadays, you can post it to Facebook where it can be seen by millions of people world wide before the management of Facebook takes it down and bans you for 30 days because it goes against their “Terms of Service”!

The more things change, the more they stay the same, the old saying goes.

We never worried about “inappropriate” sharing of our information between companies because we didn’t know it was happening.

It did happen, we were just ignorant of the behind the scene sharing of that information.

We kind of knew it was going on, we got the catalogs we never ordered, the credit card offers we didn’t ask for, etc. but blissfully we went through our lives ignorant of the fact.

Nowadays, you can’t turn on the TV without hearing a story about such and such company mishandling their data mines or another company got hacked and billions of dollars worth of information was stolen.

Who knew we were worth that much!

Not our parents!! Not even our brothers and sister who called us worthless!

Now, we’re worth billions to some hacker in the former Eastern Bloc of the Soviet Union (back when there was a Soviet Union!)

Nowadays, we rely on the Internet for entertainment, our wealth, our sanity, that when it goes down, for even just a few minutes, we go nuts.

“Oh God, now I’ll have to talk to my kids and spouse face to face!! Jesus, come back Internet!!!”

Our lives revolve around it, we use to plan our trips, even to places we’ve been a thousand times.

Google has become our friend, our big brother, and our worst enemy.

“Hey Google…” should become our new motto, to our lord and savior, our life.

Is it bad?

Not really.

I’ve met good friends, loves, that I wouldn’t have met without the glorious Internet but there are times were it becomes a life net; a needless life net, that we could have lived without but the commercials on TV, the pop ups, tell us, we cannot live without.

The machines are not only winning the battles, they are winning the war.

Friday November 23rd, 2018 – Louisville, Kentucky

It is the day after Thanksgiving here in the states, the dreaded  “Black Friday” where people have been known to knife each other over a $12 doll all in the name of a holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

It seems like time is speeding up in reference to me; I remember being 8 years old; waiting patiently for Christmas to come, Santa coming down the  chimney to give us good boys and girls our gifts.

Now it seems, Christmas is just another day in a long string of days; some happy moments thrown into the mix so I don’t off myself in a blaze of glory; like the song mentions.

I also remember a time in my life while in school, about 8 or 9, when the school district needed an amount of kids in their ‘special’ program.

A therapist would evaluate us, mostly new students from out of state.

“Draw a monster and give him a story to go along with the drawing!” she told me.

I drew a monster; long sharp teeth, scary claws, razor back, and my story was how he saved some city from destruction.

The therapist told my parents I did not know where I was in reference to time and space.

I, to this day, have no idea where I am in reference to time and space, why I have more imaginary friends than “Real” friends.

Imaginary friends have been there for me whenever, my real friends get thrown into jail and are only available on visiting day.

Stupid laws to be broken!!