Trapped in a fortress of financial rape, orbited by blood thirsty mosquitoes of greed, my wallet cries like a blond haired alter boy told to see Father McDiddler after church. I am Moses parting the Red Sea of open palms begging to be saved with the spare change of life.

My self esteem cowers in desperation, in fear of snake oil salesmen and the magicians of penile enlargement mind fucking me with slight of hand and ninja attack advertising. Banners litter the sky chasing Duct tape repaired aircraft as my windshield wipers file away handfuls of business cards and the door knob to my house greets me dressed in a suit of buy one get one fliers. My computer coughs the dying phlegm of viruses stealing my identity, as fictitious James Bond cure alls beg to be downloaded into a holocaust of digital malintent.

And you wonder why we are wading in a shit storm of dept. Credit cards sugar glaze a ham of greed allowing the false security of a reality television lifestyle. Keeping up with the Jonses has become a Knife Fight of social class approval where the lost blood of our rivals falls short of a credit score acceptance. The positive image of a healthy household is blinded by the shine off the hoods of over financed vehicles perched like trophies in our driveways. As dysfunction brings better ratings then answers and solutions my spare rattles helplessly fading in my pocket.

Long gone are the days of sensory deprivation, and here to stay are the days of oral on aural mass media over stimulation. It makes you wonder; how the fuck could you not have A.D.D.

What goes up must come down....... by Jackshit

so now, I was supposed to leave around 6 am on friday to head out to New Mexico to the GROUND ZERO THROWDOWN, hosted by Atomic Trent. I have been lookin forward to this ride since my trusty knuck decided that it was only going to do half of the run last year and decided to chew up and shit out the rear bearings...... a few more miles, it would have seized and the asshole in charge of my will would have been typing this fuckin shit. On Monday, Mr. Keith Cole took time from his busy schedule along with brother Adam grabbed up some 3/4 round stock, lit up the torch and we fabricated us one bad ass sissy bar for the ride. If not for a sissy bar, the only things that I could carry would be a jacket, a pocket full of percocet and whatever the fuck I could hold in my teeth. If you have seen my teeth, you would realize that even carrying a tic tac might be difficult. This leaves only one open spot left on me to carry things and I am reserving that space for my next cell mate....... get it.... .mate....... Man I sure hope the next one can make pruno..... anyway...... back to the one off, built while on the bike, classic, sexy, timeless sissy bar. When you see it, you will appreciate the beauty of this fucker. So that's it, I now have a place to tie shit to. So now when I happen upon that drunken fat fuckin skank crack whore, toothless jizz bucket, I can throw a bungee around her and not have to worry about losing her before I get to the alleyway where I can put my tiny lil Irish fuck stick to good use. At this moment all I feel is joy and happiness. I am moving to another house soon and that is all worked out and now I am road trippin on a 62 year old Knuck, what more in life could a boy want?

Then reality hits.......... the house we are supposed to move into in 10 days is now looking like it is not going to happen. The fuckin Government owes me 35k and won't pay me. Just imagine if it was the other way around? I would be in fuckin debters prison, do they still do that? Now instead of riding choppers on a thousand mile kick ass ride, I am driving around the Valley of the Scum trying to find a place to plug in the laptop and look at bukake videos........... I don't know, this must be payback for something I have done in my earlier life. Perhaps it is the curse that my ex put on me when after pounding the shit out of her virgin asshole, I pulled out and wiped my cock on her white silk curtains......... who knows.......... I guess the Chickens are coming home to Roooooost.............. man it's a good thing that I am not a convicted violent felon or I just might snap........... oh wait, I am................ I think in the morning, instead of going to New Mexico, I am going to go down to the mortgage company's office................... WATCH YOUR EVENING NEWS!!!!! OH YEAH by the way, here are a few pics of the sissy bar...........

Computers fucked

It'll be a few days before I post anything worth a fuck!

Here is some JackShitlosophy before the weekend

Never the Fuck Again

Till the Next Time !

So I got to thinking about the things that happen in life while eating a huge piece of PF Changs, Great Wall of Choclate Cake tonight. With another birthday having just passed and the years seeming to be closer to the end of my life than the beginning, it really gets the wheels turning. Each year we try to out do the last and make each birthday celebration more insane. Every once in a while you have one of those birthdays that you only remember bits and pieces of. You awake to find yourself safely in your own bed or at the very least on your own bathroom floor. It takes a few moments for the crusty camel shit that has formed overnight in your mouth to break free and then the first thought creeps in and it is simply, "What the Fuck Happened Last Night?!?! You look over at your night stand and see that your keys and your cash are sitting there and you actually speak out loud and say, "Oh Thank God"! With a sly little smile you ease your 165lb head back onto the stack of pillows that includes a pillow, your leather jacket, a bottle of Jack Daniels, half full (see how I said half full there, that is because I am feeling very positive right now), your trusty handgun wedged in the middle and more than likely one item that has no reason on this planet earth to be in bed with you much less out of the barn...... and you think what the hell are all of these feathers from? That's when the fear begins to set in and your thoughts immediately start to race from glimpses of slamming shots, to whiffin up lines off a pair of Phillipino strippers thighs and remembering someone, you don't know who asking you "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU"? After the first 5 to 10 minutes of the smoke clearing from the explosion that you created in your brain, you turn to your side to see if your ol lady is even there. She is? Okay, well this is a good sign at the very least. She may be furious with you, but she is still sleeping in the same bed. This gives you the confidence to know that at least you are not getting out of bed to hire an attorney, or at least you think your not.That little smile starts to grow a bit wider and the sides of your mouth crackle with the movement and you pick some nasty ass crud from the corner of your mouth and you think when the hell did I have sunny side up eggs? Slowly the confusion leads to other unpleasant thoughts and you begin to come to the realization that some things about the previous evening may not be so clear in the memory. You reach slowly down into your pants to see if any parts of you are sticky and when they aren't you are both relieved and sadly disappointed at the same time. Your kidneys not only hurt like you were kicked by Chuck Liddel but are so over filled with toxins that you can neither kneel or stand to empty them and you honestly think to yourself about pissing right there in the bed. You quickly realize this will lead to divorce for sure! The next thought comes from the devil inside you who is still high as a kite from all of the ingested poisons and it makes complete and total sense. If she does leave me, I can piss on this side of the bed and still sleep on the now vacant other side. By some stroke of genius you realize that this is not a winning proposition. This isn't a head ache that any old advil is going to fix so you rifle through your pillow (leather jacket) to find the bottle of Percocet that you filled just the afternoon before and you realize that there are only three left. If I took 27 percocets, how the hell does my head hurt this bad? Too much thought involved in this. As your head rests gently on your pillow again you realize that it is vibrating and think, humm, maybe it wasn't such a bad night after all. But no, it is your phone and it won't stop. 5 new messages? At 7am, who in their right mind would ever think you would be up at that hour?A little while goes by and you can't fall back to sleep because you are now beginning to get some small visions of questionable acts that you remember but are sure it must have been someone else who did that. You dial your voice mail and each message begins the same way with the person leaving it laughing for a about a minute and then leaving a message like "I can't fuckin wait till next year", and "dude, I hope to god you made it home and your alive, call me". A few messages you can't even make out who they are from because they are laughing so hard. This does not help the way you are feeling and now the thoughts of puking are stronger than the urge to piss so you get up and scale the walls down the hallway to the shitter. You realize your not going to puke and you turn to head back and think, "what the hell is that sticking out of my boots"? You approach slowly with intrepidation because as you get closer you come to grips with the fact that your boots have syringes sticking out of them. The truly scarey part is they are not for use on humans but look more like they are made for artificially inseminating a water buffalo. A chill goes down your spine as you see one is half empty (see how I'm not so positive anymore) and is filled with some coagulating red liquid. You pull it from the boot and wonder if you told someone last night that you were a doctor and tried to perform some type of medical procedure. Oddly, it doesn't really smell that bad. You hold it up to your mouth and come to the conculsion that it is still (half filled) with vodka flavored jello and think hair of the dog and put the tip in your mouth and push the plunger with gusto. Momentarily your body feels AHHHH then is immediately followed by the urgent need to puke again. A short while later, the little woman wakes up, goes and grabs a RockStar out of the fridge and stands in the doorway of the room and just shakes her head at you in disgust. Your head cocks to one side like a puppy hearing a funny sound for the first time and you look at her with sad sad eyes, she shakes her head and walks away. Not another word is spoken. A few hours go bye and you get an occasional comment like "sure hope you had fun last night" and "I hope you are planning on going to confession"? You slunk away! You sneak into your computer and pull up the local news paper websites to see if any body is LOOKING FOR YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW? When you see that no mention in the morning news is of any concern to you a wave of relief begins to embrace your soul. Now that you feel a little bit better you come to grips with the fact that those last three Percocets are never going to last till next month, so, why not just take them now? You poke your head out and take a peek to see if the lil woman is there like I am sure General Custre did as he looked down the hill for Indians. Coast is clear. As the morning after turns into evening you are so happy that you survived and haven't been to jail that you actually think about going out again that night. The blood in your urine suggests that perhaps you should take the night off. You feel the phone vibrate and you pick it up with no intention of answering and speaking to anyone and it's a text. You also notice that there is a file attached. Ut Oh! Terror slowly starts a tornado in your stomach as you click on Download Attachment. The picture slowly scrolls down the screen like you are opening documents from NASA. It's a photo. It's not too bad, looks like you were having fun and not hurting anyone. Oddly though, up until a moment ago, you had no recolection of that event having transpired? The next message arrives and it's the same thing. It is a picture and you are wearing tampons for earings and are utterly relieved that at least they were not used. Didn't remember that either? More photos come! A BUS? WHEN THE HELL WAS I ON A BUS? You come to the horrifying realization that there is more that you can't remember than you can remember. Yet that's it. A few days later you get the random call from people asking exactly what happend and you proceed to tell them how fucked up THEY were. A week later you are looking for something you lost and while searching you find your digital camera has somehow found it's way into the toaster oven. You hadn't even thought about your own camera since........... since.......... since........... oh shit, you forgot you even had one.YOU TURN THE POWER ON, SCRAPE OFF THE SCHMEGMA THAT HAS HARDENED ON THE SCREEN AND YOU SEE THE PICTURES OF THE EVENING. IF YOU DIDN'T RECOGNIZE YOURSELF IN THE PICTURES YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BELIEVE THAT IT WAS YOU. HERE ARE JUST THREE OF THE PHOTOS THAT POPPED UP ON THE SCREEN........











WELL, I GUESS HINDSIGHT IS 20/20 AND IN THE END, IT SURE COULD HAVE TURNED OUT MUCH WORSE. HERE ARE THE FINAL TALLIES FOR THE EVENING, THERE WERE NO ACCIDENTS (I GUESS THIS IS WHERE THE BUS CAME IN), ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR CAB RIDE, 2 FIGHTS, 1 BROKEN POOL CUE, 1 DOG BITE ON THE RIGHT ANKLE (ME) AND ONLY ONE ARREST (CHARGES STILL PENDING)!!! TOTAL OUT OF POCKET EXPENSE, $2100. Maybe there just shouldn't even be a next time?

Until we see each other down the road somewhere, Keep The Wind In Your Face, Tits In Your Back and The Man Off Your Ass..............

Jackshit