Joe Z Trying to Set Me Up

 Ever since I've been blogging I've been telling stories about a wonderful place called Max Barbecue, and its illustrious proprietor, the late, great Joe Zaidan. It would take way too long to go into the whole scene and talk about how much of a crazy character he was, but basically he was a nut.

 He was born in Africa I believe, and lived there before moving to Spain, and he spent time in other places like Lebanon and elsewhere. He was somewhat small in stature but larger than life. He was energetic, wide open, friendly, smart, athletic and a true comedian. He was a sweetheart but he could be really gruff too. He didn't have too many filters so he'd say whatever he felt like, whether it was appropriate or not. 

 It's not like he was trying to be mean or insulting or rude or anything, but he didn't understand all of the nuances and social customs and such. He was brutally frank and honest, but sometimes he'd say things that most people in this country wouldn't. 

 There were certain things including the concept of humor and what people in this country find funny and such that didn't quite cross the communication barrier smoothly. He'd say things to people and they'd be taken aback, if not totally shocked. 

 Usually it ended up being funny, but not always. He pissed off people totally without meaning to. Sometimes his gruffness would come off like he wasn't being friendly but that's just how he was.

 Max was popular among all age groups. Beautiful women of all styles came in every day, and it was hard not to notice. No matter whether I currently had a girlfriend or not, when a fine sister or sisters walked in without an obvious significant other, he'd try to set me up, in his own special way. 

 It would start out okay...he'd point me out and go "You know Kelly?" Usually they'd shake their head. "He plays the drums. He is famous personality of the drums." Usually they didn't much seem to care but occasionally it might pique their interest. So far so good and no harm done...yet.

 He'd imitate me playing drums. He'd be smiling and flailing his arms all about. He'd say, "He is famous drummer...he play like 'dis...BIM BAM BOOM! You should go see heem!" It was hilarious.

 He'd mimic my "drinking and drumming" thing. He'd be flailing his arms around and laughing like a maniac, and he'd reach down with one hand and pretend to grab a beer. He'd lean his head back and pretend to down it all in one go, while pretending to still be playing drums with the other hand. I have to say he got me on that one. It was awesome and everybody would get a big laugh out of it. Some of the gals might even be smiling at me.

 If he'd left it alone at that point it might have worked, but he thought they needed additional information that was...well, of a more sensitive nature. At this point I'd be ready to hang my head...I knew what was coming and I knew that any hopes of getting together with them were about to be dashed to Hell. "Here goes..."

 He'd say something like: "You know Kelly...'dis boo-boo? He has huge bolls. He has bolls like balloon." For emphasis he'd make a big round shape with his hands to show how big they were. He'd go on about how great it was that my "bolls" were so big. It was out to lunch.

 Ordinarily it would've been funny, if it weren't for the fact that any possibility of getting to know any of these women had just been brutally eliminated. Sometimes they'd laugh, thank God, but other times they wouldn't. I'd just shrug my shoulders and smile an embarrassed smile. What else could I do? It was rough. 

 What's funny is that Joe really thought he was doing me a favor by describing the size of my scrotum. I guess he thought it'd make me look virile or maybe he thought they'd be turned on or whatever, but it was definitely one of those times where certain things didn't cross the communication bridge without paying a heavy toll.

 Bless his heart, and rest his soul, he was trying to help but he couldn't have been more backward. Some things don't translate. It's pretty dang funny to look back on now, and such a bizarre and unlikely way to try to set someone up for a date. 

 Who knows...if he'd stopped after the part about me drinking and drumming, I might have met the love of my life. That'd have been something I'd have treasured for life, and the response to the question every married couple gets asked would have been awesome. "So, where'd you guys meet?" "We met at Max Babacue." That would've been amazing. Oh, well...it was still hilarious. You can't buy memories like that. Sorry, girls!

 

Verse of the Day (Luke 12: 2-3)

For there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. 

Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light, and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.

The Incredible Delusions of the Narcissist

 Learning what narcissism is all about was one of the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn but also one of the most important. It answered so many questions I had all my life. I never understood how people could do the horrible things they do, specifically how they could ignore the filters in most of our brains that prevent us from doing bad things. I was assuming that we all had those, but narcissists don't. They're wired differently. 

 Their brains aren't wired for things like empathy, which is the big one, but also love, happiness, peace and joy. They don't have those things. It's hard to get your head around the idea. It's sad. Lies are their truth. When you hear the term "pathological liar," it describes them to a T. The word delusional was created for narcissists I believe. 

 There are so many incredibly weird things about them, but maybe what flipped me out the most to learn was that they actually believe their own lies, and it's an amazing thing to witness. It's one thing to tell a lie, and sell it and everything else, and every human who ever lived has lied, but when most people lie they know it's a lie. Not narcissists. They believe their own bullshit.

 Since they have no empathy they can't put themselves into anyone else's shoes, and they have no idea how they appear to others and how utterly laughable and immature they look when they tell these ridiculous lies. 

 Before I understood narcissism and was still with my narcissist ex, I knew something was totally off but I couldn't put a name to it yet. I just knew that she had some sort of a serious problem with lying, and it was super weird and creepy. 

 She'd tell lies all day long that were literally as crazy as saying it was daytime when it was dark out. They were that stupid and wrong. At first I thought she was kidding but then I realized that she seemed to actually believe them. 

 She'd tell some stupid lie and I'd look around the room and say: "Who else is here? You don't expect me to believe that do you?" It was freaky. Speaking of stupid, she couldn't handle being told that something she did was stupid. That's because deep down she knew she was stupid. There are exceptions but most narcissists aren't exceptionally bright. They can sometimes fake it but like everything else it's a lie.

 Narcissists know that they're dark, sick and empty inside but they can't acknowledge it because it would drive them insane very quickly, so they have to create this imaginary scenario in their heads that's exactly the opposite...they're perfect; they never make mistakes; it's always someone else's fault, and whatever they say is true, hence the lies. 

 They create their own version of reality on the fly. They're truly making it up as they go along. When they get caught in a lie they'll never, ever admit they lied, because that'd mean they're imperfect. They just double-down and tell more lies, trying to cover for the ones they've already told. It's incredible to see. 

 Since lies are their truth, they lose touch with reality to varying degrees, and that's where the delusion comes in. You can't tell them otherwise...that's it's actually night when they said it was day. What anyone else on the planet says is wrong. "My way or the highway" is their mantra. 

 Since they're better than everyone else they're completely unable to form any kind of true partnership whatsoever, be it friends, coworkers or relationships. Again they can fake it like the best Hollywood actors but a relationSHIT with a narcissist will never work. 

 The case of the narcissist pictured above is a perfect example. This princess was driving drunk, and I mean hammered into oblivion, with her young children in the car. She hit several curbs and a wall, and was so wasted that she didn't realize that she was driving on two flat tires. For good measure she shat herself, which is why they put paper towels on the bench at the police station.

 In typical narcissistic fashion she blamed the cops for her bullshit, saying that they were ruining her life. Sorry sister but you're doing just fine by yourself. Many narcissists have very serious substance issues because deep down they know they're pieces of shit and they want to dull that.

 She could barely walk or talk and she could've gotten into a serious accident and "unalived" her kids or another family, but still she said that she's the best mom in the world. The crazy thing is that she actually believes it, and it's not just the alcohol talking. That's fucked-up. These nasty monsters really piss me off. Avoid them.

Comment of the Day

 This is an outstanding comment. Anyone who thinks Greta Thunberg is anything but a tool of the Elites might want to do a little research. She bothers me because people pay attention to her. It's agenda-driven bullshit.

The "Do as I Say Powder" Story Retold

I've told this story at least once before but who cares? It's a good one to me anyway, and something I just heard reminded me of it. It got me wondering how many people think that Voodoo is real. I guess we can safely say that those who practice it think so. 

 There's a video from the last Super Bowl that shows a woman sticking pins into a Voodoo doll that represented someone on the team she was against. I didn't see it so I don't know if she was serious or not, but either way is there anything to it?

 Several ex-Satanists including John Ramirez say it's absolutely real and I believe it is too, though I don't know if it was real in this case. If you're interested in learning more about it search John on YouTube. It's quite interesting no matter what you believe. 

 In this case what happened could totally be coincidence. I'm not one of those people who say that there are no coincidences although I lean that way. I do believe that everything happens for a reason, and if that's true then it would negate most coincidences. 

 The Bud Greene band played a weekend in New Orleans. On Saturday we had some time to "unalive" so we went to a Voodoo shop. If I were Catholic I reckon I'd have crossed myself but I did say a short prayer of protection, for the rest of the guys more than me. In my belief system I'm protected by the blood of the Lamb, and I know the name that's more powerful than all darkness put together and even the Devil himself. 

 I certainly didn't expect to buy anything but I saw something I couldn't resist. They have all sorts of potions and powders that supposedly do everything under the Sun, from attracting love or money or whatever to more nefarious purposes. 

 I saw a can labeled "Do as I Say." It showed a guy on his knees begging, with a woman standing above him pointing and shooting lightning bolts from her eyes. It cracked us all up and I had to get it. 

 Fast-forward to a few months later. We were playing at some little bar somewhere in Alabama where we'd never played before. Most of the time our agencies wouldn't book gigs that paid below a grand, but 2-3 times a month they'd offer us a gig that paid half that or less, and we almost always took them.

 It'd be at some small club somewhere we'd never played before and nobody knew us, so they'd offer a much smaller guarantee. Frat and sorority gigs were our bread and butter and were a set fee. With clubs they'd have a guarantee vs. the door. We might be guaranteed $500 or whatever, but if they took in more than that at the door we'd get the difference. 

 We called them "gas money gigs" because they'd pay for our fuel for the whole week, even when we drove all the way to Virginia, which we did quite often. It was cool because the first time we played a new place there might be ten people in the audience, but they'd tell their friends and the next time we played there we'd get thirty people, and so on until after playing there half a dozen times It'd be packed. It's called paying dues. 

 We looked at it as a paid practice, and we'd work on songs we were learning or we'd just jam for half an hour. It was fun even with nobody there, and it was cool to see the crowd build over time. We built our fan base one fan at a time and when it was sadly all said and done we'd built a considerable following. 

 On the way to the gig this night we weren't quite our usual jovial selves. I hate to say it but it was largely because not a one of us had a speck of weed, and thet maybe happened three times in the existence of the band. Usually we'd be laughing and cutting up the whole way to the gig, and oh yeah...smoking pot. The band was called Bud Greene after all. 

 I felt that it was up to me to lighten the mood so I pulled out the magic suitcase. I'd put together a "boredom kit" for those times when we'd have several hours to "unalive" before the gig that evening. It had stuff like fireworks, cards, games, girlie mags and whatnot. 

 We called having to sit around before the gig "Hurry Up and Wait Syndrome." That was a big deal and I believe that it was an unlikely cause of the demise of some bands. Luckily we were very good at entertaining ourselves in reasonably healthy ways but some bands weren't, and they'd resort to alcohol or drugs to ease the boredom, and they'd be wasted before the gig even started. For us thankfully that was a no-no.

 I opened the suitcase and saw the Do as I Say powder. I'd forgotten about it. I laughed and figured it was time to whip it out...the powder that is.

 The instructions said to sprinkle the powder into a candle flame while saying your desires. That seemed easy enough. The things we were up against were a low guarantee, the likelihood of a lame crowd and therefore not many women to look at, and the biggie...we were out of smokum.

Luckily I had some candles because we were into them. I laid out some foil, let the candle drip on it and put it in place in the middle of the floor of the van. The rest of the guys didn't know what was going on but I had their attention. 

 The powder had a spongey, sawdust-y texture and a sweetly funky aroma, like they'd swept the floor at a combination pencil and incense factory. It also had some gunpowder or something that made it sparkle when it hit the flame. That was a nice touch.

 I started sprinkling the powder into the flame and chanting "Break the guarantee...see some Modulators (one of our terms for hot babes), score some weed...break the guarantee..." and so on. We didn't take it seriously of course but we got a good laugh, and we arrived at the club in a better mood than we would've otherwise. 

 Sure enough the place was in the middle of nowhere. It was a fairly small building with a lighted sign with plastic letters. It said "BUD GREENE TONIGHT." At least they'd spelled it right. Lots of times the venue would leave off the e and spell it "Green." When I named the band I added the e to make it "legal," ha-ha.

 We set about loading in our equipment. We thought it'd be a typical gas money gig but luckily we were wrong. After about five minutes two gorgeous young ladies in tiedyes rode up on their bikes. That was a good sign...we'd take two young Modulators any day. I said hello. They both got huge grins on their faces. One of them said: "Y'all aren't going to believe this but it's going to be packed tonight. "Really?" "Uh-huh." "Cool!"

 It turned out that there was a school in the next town that we'd played, and they told everybody about us. So far, so good. The band's mood was improving by the minute. 

 Since it looked like fate was smiling upon us I decided to press my luck. I said: "Umm...do y'all think there might be some smoke for sale?" "Oh yeah" they said. "So-and-so will be here and he has some killer. How much you want?" "Can we get a Z?" "Sure. We'll tell him to bring it." "Fantastic, thanks!"

 They hung out and chatted a while before they left to get ready. "Just wait...it's gonna be a blast!" "Heck yeah" I said. "Y'all are on the guess list. See you soon." "We'll be back shortly." "Fuckin' A" I said to myself. 

 Sure enough as soon as we started playing people started piling in, and before we finished the first set it was packed to the gills and people were having to wait to get in. Screw the fire code. In a way it was even more fun than a typical night at a packed club because we hadn't expected it. 

 Right as we finished the set it hit me...with all the excitement of seeing everybody and knowing we were about to get some weed I'd forgotten about the powder. "Guys," I said, "we got exactly what we wished for!" We all got quiet and stood there grinning at each other. "Whoa..."

 It ended up being one of our best gigs and we got our guys to book that club as much as possible. It ended up being a great band story, and a hilarious comment that came from the weed guy sort of summed up the essence of the band. 

 The guy with the weed was a real old hippy. On the first break we piled as many people into the van as we could, and fired up several Js. The funny thing about our name was that we thought the meaning was obvious but lots of people didn't get it.

 They thought that there was an actual guy named Bud Greene in the band. They'd go: "Which one's Bud?" We'd point to Doug every time. We thought it was hilarious. The weed guy got it immediately though. He saw our name on the sign and said" "Haw-haw...why didn't you just call it 'Big Ol' Hit of Acid?'" That was classic. He was on the guest list for life.

 It goes to show that you just never know, and that keeping a good attitude about things is the way to go. We never saw it coming, and nothing like that ever happened before or after. Was it the Do as I Say powder? Probably not but it sure freaked us out. 

 There's an epilog to the story. A few weeks later we played in Memphis and about 15 of our friends drove up to see us. On Sunday we all went out for brunch. 

 After the powder incident I'd decided that I wouldn't mess with it any more and so I gave it to our friend Bruce that weekend. I forget the restaurant but it's famous and it was packed. We had at least three servers taking care of us. 

 For some reason Bruce had the powder with him. We ordered a round of drinks, except for me because I hardly ever drank in the daytime. Bruce ordered a Bloody Mary. They brought everyone's drinks except for his. 

 Another round was ordered and again Bruce ordered a Bloody Mary but again they brought everyone's but his. Unbelievably it happened a third time and Bruce was getting thirsty and impatient. 

 

 He remembered the powder, which was in his girlfriend's purse. He asked for it and started sprinkling it into the candle on the table, going: "Bloody, bloody, bloody..." As soon as he did that, three different servers all showed up at the same time with three Bloody Marys. That was nuts, and again the powder made us fall silent. 

 Was all that due to the Do as I Say powder? Probably not but you can't rule it out with total certainty. If it was just a bunch of coincidences then they were batshit crazy ones. I guess it's a good thing we didn't try to put a curse on anyone. 

 That was the only time I ever messed with Voodoo, kidding or not. My advice would be to be careful if you want to do that Voodoo that you do. 

 

Quote of the Day

 "We need to be super careful with AI. It's potentially more dangerous than nukes." - Elon Musk

Bubblebutt/Molecules

 I don't know if I heard the term "bubblebutt" or if I made it up, but this is an extreme example. The thing is that the rest of her body doesn't look like it could support a rump that big. That's some booty right there. It looks like it's been inflated. 

 I realize that she's at an extreme angle that pokes it out, and the vinyl or whatever material it is might make dat ass look more rotund, but to me it's extreme. I know that lots of people dig it but it's not my thing. I don't like flat rear ends on women and Iike a nice curve but this is too much for me. I don't like big butts and I cannot lie. 

 Her backside reminds me of these crazy drums called Molecules. As you can see they don't have traditional shells. They're made of fiberglass I think, and they do look like molecules, and to my eye like Sister Bubble's rear end. To me it's hilarious. Molecules, yes...bubblebutt, no thanks. To each their own. 

Too Much Shit from Fashion #43,764,852: Pre-Stressed Jeans

I use this as the title because of a classic example of misheard lyrics by my friend Champ. When he first heard the song Too Much Information by the Police he thought they were saying "Too much shit from fashion." I absolutely love that and it generally sums up my view of fashion- I'm going to do it because everyone else does it. 

 Jeans like these are the perfect example of why other countries laugh at us, although they'll probably catch on there too eventually. I see these everywhere now and I think they're a joke. Let's pay good money for a pair of jeans that's at best a couple-dozen washes away from the rag bag, just so we can "fit in." These jeans are torn so high up that they wouldn't even make a decent pair of cutoffs or even Daisy Dukes, unless you didn't mind having every orifice showing.

  Jeans were invented in the 1800s for miners and other workers who needed pants that would last, with more robust fabric and fittings. Back then, unlike the clowns who buy these things today, most people didn't have more money than sense, and they didn't care too much about fitting in. They did everything they could do to not let their jeans look like this. They'd laugh if they could see these goobers. 

 First we had stonewashed jeans. They looked like they'd faded somewhat naturally. They were okay but this is ridiculous. If jeans get to the point where they're torn like this naturally, the rest of the fabric would be very faded but with these the intact fabric is deep blue and fresh. It's obvious that they've been purposely torn. They're not well-loved and naturally faded, with stories to tell...they're bogus. I guess as long as it's trending it doesn't matter.

 I often think about unusual jobs that not many people have. What if I got a gig pre-stressing jeans...it might actually be fun, and it certainly wouldn't be the type of job that you take home with you after work or worry about what's going to happen tomorrow. I'd imagine it'd be a Zen-like job. It might not be the kind of job that carried much prestige or might get you laid or whatever..."What do you do for work?" "I pre-stress jeans." "Oh, okay. Check ya later."

 I make fun of fashion. Let's all bow to the gods of fa-fa-fa-fashion. Maybe it's because I read The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss, but I get a kick out of seeing everybody scurrying around trying to be like everyone else. Think about all the people who had rattail haircuts in the 80s, or any other stupid fashion trend...they look at photos of themselves and go: "What in God's name was I thinking?" 

 In the case of the sister in this image there's extra stupidity. She was wearing a thick jacket and was complaining about the cold. Seriously? Do you think it could have anything to do with the fact that your jeans have big holes in them? Well, at least she's in style. I guess we shouldn't be surprised, considering that she was dumb enough to drink and drive, but that's another story.

 In the brilliant tune Fashion, David Bowie sings: "We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town...BEEP-BEEP." I couldn't have said it better. It's perfectly okay to do your own thing, including buying jeans that are intact and that will grow old with you and have stories to tell, and not worrying about "fitting in." At the end of the day, who cares? Marching to a different drummer can be a hoot. Hup, 2, 3, 4...

Yet Another Slow Meteor

 I keep talking about these slow-moving meteors but I keep seeing them and they keep blowing my mind because they move so dang slowly. The average speed of a meteor is about 20km/s, or about 45,000mph, although it can range from around 11 to around 70km/s. That's hauling ass. These just creep by, at way less than 1km/s I'd guess.

 I saw another one this morning. I woke up at 5:00 sharp and took El Doggo out. I looked up and saw what looked like a star the size and brightness of Venus (pictured above), but I realized it was slowly moving. 

 I usually think I'm seeing a plane at first except that planes don't fly nearly that slowly, and although this one stayed constant, some of them brighten and dim and occasionally change color. They're meteors that aren't whizzing by like they usually do. It's wild. 

 I don't keep my phone in my pocket like most people because I don't want to irradiate my nurtz, but I'm going to carry it any time I go out on a clear night. I've seen quite a few of these in the last several years...easy a couple dozen or more. 

 I was only outside for a few minutes this morning and saw one, and I saw another one less than two weeks ago. There's a bunch of them coming in lately. I'm going to go out at night and just let the camera roll until I catch one, and it shouldn't take long.  

 Speaking of camera, when I saw the one this morning I ran back to grab my phone. I couldn't have been gone more than about 12 seconds but when I got back out it was gone. That's a shame because although some of them only last a few seconds, others last up to minutes. The last one I saw I watched for maybe three minutes, and it was still going when it went behind the roof. That's crazy.

 Like I've said I think the reason they're moving so slowly is because they're being struck, dislodged and sent our way by other objects knocking them from the various asteroid belts, and it's similar to a break in pool, where the cue ball hits the object balls and sends them flying off at high speed, although it takes maybe half a second or so to reach full speed. Maybe that's what's happening on a much larger and slower scale, but that's just my personal opinion. 

 In any case, like I've also said before, according to what my guys say, along with the charts and graphs to back it up, we're going to see a true shitshow in the sky before too much longer. It's a logical conclusion if you simply follow the trends which are sharply going up. If things continue along the same path then it's a given. Eyes to the sky.

Killswitch Engage

 I just saw an ad for a company called Zugu. They offer a rather interesting service and a hardware and software bundle. The package comes with an iPad and a special case, an interactive ring and software. The ring monitors your vitals and if it determines that you've expired, then so does your iPad. It "bricks" it and fries all the data. The whole package sells for $1,500.

 This is secret agent stuff. It's obviously for people who have more than family photos and recipes and whatnot on their iPad. It's something the bad guys can use and I can certainly see a market for it. It's hard to delete files if you've achieved room temperature. 

 

 At least the company has a sense of humor. Step 1 says: "You die. Sorry for your loss." That's funny. The short video on their site which supposedly shows a "brave beta tester" is pretty brutal but also hilarious. It's almost like the whole thing is a spoof but it's real. Might as well have a laugh.

 Here's step 2.

 Step 3 shows the bricked iPad. It says that it doesn't actually smoke when it gets bricked. I never heard the word "bricked" but it's pretty appropriate. A brick generally doesn't contain any damning files.

 

 The image in step 3 is reminiscent of the classic TV series Mission Impossible and the scene that started every show, where the tape recorder would reveal the mission and then self-destruct. I'm guessing there's an old-timer or two who work for the company and remember the show. The difference with Zugu is that apparently there's no secretary who will disavow any knowledge of your existence.

 The thing is that if I were a bad guy who had questionable content on my iPad I might worry more about that info getting out while I was alive than unalive (see: Hunter Biden) but I can see it being a useful tool for the ne'erdowells out there, or maybe Joe Divot not wanting the wife to find out about Betty the next door neighbor. I think they've sold quite a few units. 

 

 To me it'd be much cooler if your iPad actually did smoke when it was bricked, but then again I don't suppose you'd be around to see it anyway. I'd just as soon keep my nose, and my iPad, clean and save 15 hunj but as always what do I know. In any case have a nice day, and don't get bricked.