John Lurie on Guns.

He feels the same way I do, but is much funnier about it. This painting is called, "Americans have the right to bear arms."

A few more of his brilliant works.

Ass-kissers only need apply

Only a company as giant and important as Pixar can get away with calling this position of slave-like proportions, "Editorial Assistant."

As an editor, I am in the position to say they should be arrested for slander.

Gavin on Guns. Me on Guns.

UPDATE:
Click here to sign a new petition for a California law against gun violence.

I've liked Gavin Newsom since he opened up San Francisco City Hall for gay people to get married in 2004. I also like that he's not so into guns. I always open Gavin's emails. They're well written and make sense. I loathe politics and spam, but somehow he and his emails transcend both. Maybe he's an evil genius and I should be scared because he got me listening when no one else has. Or, he's just smart and a gen-x-er like me. We speak the same language.

Just now, I clicked through his email to a form about gun control. I was asked to tell my personal story about guns, why I'm not into it, why I want more control, which, yes, means more government.

What I wrote:

That favorite saying of many gun owners, "guns don't kill people, people kill people" is just dumb. Of course guns kill people. Without guns, people wouldn't die from other people shooting them. Which brings me to the next tiresome defense.

"If we the people aren't allowed to have guns, only the criminals will have guns." 

I say, while that may be true (may), there are still less guns and that means less shooting. Consider the "war on drugs." It's a disaster riddled with lies, BUT there are less people on "drugs" than there would be if one could run down to 7-11 and grab some opiates for a headache. Same reasoning with guns. 

Less guns = less shooting. I'm terrible at math, but isn't that an accurate equation?

On a personal level, I was nearly shot by my beloved grandfather when he proudly showed me his gun. I was 24 years old, he was 80. I was sitting in his lounge chair when he approached me from the side and lowered the gun towards my line of sight...but it went off before I could get a look. The bullet lodged in a window frame. I was deaf for an hour or so, while my grandfather descended into a terrible depression. That near-miss wouldn't have been possible if he didn't have a gun. Simple. So simple. 

_____________________________________
Ok now, let's talk about getting some opiates in 7-11 because I get massive headaches and my back is fucked up. Just kidding.

From the desktop of ...Lou

This table wants to abduct me and take me to its mothership.

I'm developing a crush on this old punk rocker.

This table is the rich cousin of the table made of two gasoline barrels and an old door.

"There's a dragon with matches that's loose on the town"

The Valley Fire in Middletown, CA left most people without a home. But spared our property.

I was just tearing around this vineyard, up and down the rows on an ATV. Care-Free. The horror barely touched us. The fire stopped at the cinderblock retaining wall right next to the house, and took just a taste of a corner of the vineyard. Really, did we deserve that mercy?

And the sky. Meant to kill.

We were able to save the horses, but had to let the cows and the goats and the chickens fend for themselves. You're set free loves, now RUN. 

AC/DC in Town

When I got the email, "Who Wants To Go?" One thing came into my mind and that was "BACK IN BLACK!" and so obviously I said, I do.

But then the day came and I imagined being amongst all the nostalgia players and felt like I might feel selfconscious. I might have a good time, and also sometimes feel like I'm in an uncomfortable time warp. Plus it cost $144. So, I told my friends fuckit and sold the ticket.

Later that night one of said friends sent this image.

Jim Carrey's on a trip and I wanna go

Finding rare music before the Internet Age

Looking at Rdio right now, scanning the 27 Duran Duran albums up for download, I'm reminded of the beauty and wonder finding a song held during the '80s. "Finding a song" was completely different of course. Finding a song was more than tapping into the search bar, it required WORK.

First you had to find imported music magazines or books at the book store at the mall. Within those pages you'd learn about record pressings that held out of circulation recordings. Once that knowledge was acquired—and it wasn't easy—you would search out the 7" or 12" single at the record store. There, you'd find one tiny bin labeled "IMPORT" and start shuffling. You would shuffle until your fingers were black with dust. The real rare record came in a plastic sleeve. The clerk would pull it out from behind the counter and take a lazy swipe at the dust on it. And hand it to you. And you would gasp in surprise and pure joy, and pay $30 for it.

These records were such treasures—like finding a diamond at the beach—they would be kept for...what time is it? 33 years so far.

And now we have Rdio, etc. and you just tap "play."
The hunt.

And with this sigh, I will now listen to the first of those 27 records Duran Duran produced. The one that was the hardest to find, the one with "Late Bar." Here we go...

click.

Life Before Ritalin

Restrain this copywriter

This brain of mine is so full of lyrics and song titles and band names, it's impossible to avoid some of them slipping out and falling into my corporate writing gig.

Today I'm writing about place settings. Oh, my life is so hard. I can't believe I just said that and it's true. What slipped out today:










Oops, just lost another pop culture reference. Maybe if I wore a hat, they'd stay in my head.

"The One That Has All Those Teeth In His Mouth"

"I was a maître d’ at a restaurant for thirteen years. But one week I got a really bad case of pneumonia that put me in the hospital. While I was lying in that hospital bed, I was thinking about how I really didn’t want to go back to work. Then that motivational speaker came on TV. You know–the one that has all those teeth in his mouth. And he said: ‘Think back to what made you happy when you were young! That’s what you should be doing!’ Well I grew up in the country, and I always had a lot of dogs, so I thought that nothing would make me happier than to be a dog walker. But I knew I needed to distinguish myself. So I decided to make a uniform. I smoked a joint and came up with this outfit. I wanted people to look at me and think: ‘If this man is walking our dog, and there’s some sort of major disaster, he’s going to survive. He’s going to fish for those dogs. He’s going to build a bunker and shelter those dogs until it’s safe to bring them home.’ After I finished the design, I got four of my friends to wear the uniform, and we borrowed all the neighbors’ dogs, and we walked them down 5^th Avenue while handing out business cards. I got five customers that first day.”

--from the Humans of New York photo series/project

VW, I Love Thee

WHY do i not care about what VW has done? only that VW doesn't go away?

Is it because gen x grew up with parents who drove VWs, so it's not just a major element in my life but in most of my friends' lives? Is it because of the logo? Is it because VW cars look good even when they're looking like everything else? Am I shallow? Am I only about art? Do I love VW because of the great ads I used to read in Rolling Stone?

If VW ceased to be I don't know what I'd drive.

I'd stop driving.

Why I Quit Facebook

One day in 2008, after having an account for one week, I opened Facebook to see a message much like this staring me in the face.

And to that and this I have one thing to say.

Hanna Guide

Catleen Hanna.

Kathleen Hanna.

secret drinking problem coffee table

wouldn't it be fun/funny/great to have this coffee table with secret drinks inside. you could take one real quick while the husband/boyfriend/partner goes to the bathroom/kitchen/office during a commercial. no one would ever guess that this thing opens.

a must-have.

Kamikaze Deer

That scene from “The Leftovers” is a thing, and it happened to us this morning.

Rx and I were sitting at a stoplight, waiting to get on the freeway. The line of cars in both lanes was horrendously long. Suddenly something smashed into Rx’s door. I thought something was thrown. It was very confusing for a minute, until we saw the deer, running crazy down the middle between the two lanes. He didn’t have much room. Deer sort of bounce back and forth when they run. This was a buck and he was tearing out. And he slammed into our car on the way.

He took off into an area that I know doesn’t connect to a forest. Poor, poor deer. Poor dear.

Injured deer, thirsty deer, baby deer, deer on the side of the road, walking in the road, deer ticks. I hold a lot of worry for deers, like psychic scar tissue from viewings of Bambi and Watership Down.

Hail to the Back

In the dream I had Radiohead's Hail To The Thief tattooed on my back. I'm sure that means something good.

Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes five

I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide
January has April's showers
And two and two always makes five

It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can scream and you can shout
It is too late now

Because!

You have not been
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention (x4)

I try to sing along
But the music's all wrong
'Cause I'm not
'Cause I'm not
I swat 'em like flies but like flies the buggers keep coming back and NOT
But I'm not
All hail to the thief
All hail to the thief
But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not

Don't question my authority or put me in the dock
'Cause I'm not
'Cause I'm not
Oh go and tell the king that the sky is falling in
When it's not
But it's not
But it's not
Maybe not
Maybe not


update: is this about having a monkey on my back? are all these things monkeys on my back?

A 4.2 Next Door

This morning Guy is in the shower downstairs and Rx is in bed with me. We're trying to get up. She looks out the window and says, "Mommy, Clem's (our cat) outside!" Then SLAM and SCRAPE!!! We're in an earthquake. I register how loud it is, and hard, and immediately start moving across the bed, which is tempurpedic and really hard to move on, and Rx is saying, "What is that? What is that?!" She's getting progressively louder and more scared. And I'm not answering her because I'm focused on moving to the doorway and I'm sort of pulling her along with me, or she's moving with me, not sure. Before I can get to the opposite corner of the bed,  Guy is there and he says, "It's ok, it's ok!" and I keep moving and bringing her with me and by the time I'm standing in the doorway with my arms covering her entire body, it's over. Guy is in the middle of the room saying, "It's ok! It's just an earthquake! It's ok!"

Then we hear the rumbling noise of the garbage truck outside. Moving along like nothing's happened.

Rx says, "I hope space is ok."


A few days later I asked Rx what she thought was happening when the earthquake happened. She said she thought the moon moved because the stars needed room to grow.

Welcome to Hell

There's a special little corner in hell for this guy. He will burn for all eternity. If there is no hell in the afterlife, it will happen now. There are few things to be sure of in life, but this is one of them. Motherfucker.

A Moment of Zen

In an effort to put a quarter in the washing machine and clean the nazi story (below) out of my head, there's this.

Ex Nazi gets 4 years in prison as accessory to 300,000 murders

WHAT?

The absurdity of this sentence...I'm speechless. About 7am this morning CNN reported that the 94-year-old ex-Nazi, Oskar Groening has been sentenced to only 4 years in prison because he "deserves to experience freedom after serving time."

DESERVES?!

DESERVES to experience FREEDOM after helping Hitler kill 300,000 Jews?

There are no words, really. No words. Throw your hands down in defeat. This can't be understood.

The updated CNN story is now missing the words "deserves freedom".


Speechless.

Today Love Wins.

Made a sticker, marched in the parade.
Shed a thousand happy tears that day.
Explained the events to my 4-year-old, "Boys can marry boys, and girls can marry girls if they want. Before, they couldn't and that wasn't fair."
She asked if we could get married now.
She drew a picture of the two of us surrounded by hearts to take with me to the parade.
I did.
She asked me when the happy tears would end.
I said, Not for a long time, Baby, Not for a long time.
We listened to Obama on the radio. She practiced whistling. She got it when I said I needed to listen to our President. Quiet please, Love, I need to hear the President.
We got to her school, I asked her teacher like every day, "How are you?" She exploded with jubilance, "GREAT, actually!!!"
I knew she knew. I knew why.
I told her, Me Too!
And we both stood there, crying and laughing and feeling so happy and my daughter just watched.
I hope it's her first memory, this day. That day. The day my happy tears would never end.
When my boss walked into work on this wonderful wonderful day, he put his arms up in the air--like a diva about to wail, like an opera queen he yelled, "It's our day, motherfuckers!"
I couldn't contain myself.
I shot both bat-wing arms up in the air and yelled and whooped.
On the way home that day we listened to Louis Prima. I danced like an old timer; like a shuffle and a clap, a shuffle and a clap. All evening long, a shuffle and a clap.
What a wonderful thing. A wonderful wonderful wonderful thing.
My best friend and me. We walked the parade and performed the famous "soldier's kiss" in front of every big camera all the way up Market Street in the glorious city of San Francisco.

I guess that's how I got this contusion.

Mezcal is strong!

Individual

This Jones says Yes to being who you are. No to mediocrity. No to followers. Yes to those who Question Authority and Do It Anyway, and Yes to love.

Just sayin'.

My life in Nebraska

I had a life in Nebraska.

From 1974 to 1977 I lived in Omaha, went to school in Omaha and watched Omaha go by through the windows of our faded red VW Bus.

Omaha, as I remember it--from the eyes of a 4-year-old, 5-year-old, 6-year-old--was a land of extreme weather and weird textures. There was frostbite and getting locked indoors by snowdrifts. Using the oven as an additional heater. There were tornadoes and tornado warning sirens; terrifying. There were hay fields dotted with giant bales of hay, cylindrical and cubical, each evenly spaced and perfectly shaped.

And they went on forever. And ever. And ever. And ever...

My friends wrote their name in spit on our oxidized bus just before we pulled away and headed to the land o' plenty. I had no idea how lucky I was to escape.

Love, Augusten

"I was able to maintain a pleasant expression, but inside I was mentally throwing up on her face."

No name for this post

It's fascinating to read that the "last" Nazi has come forward and how "unusual" it is that he has admitted to what he did during the reign of AH (fame withholding).

Many things stand out as absolutely absurd, mainly that the man (coward) is 93 and "A maximum sentence of six years for the murder of 300,000!" doesn't make sense.

It's so absolutely absurd and offensive because there is no question what should happen to this man. There's no question he should be sent to prison, and a horrible horrible prison, and hopefully a Jewish criminal would be in this prison and he would be allowed to torture, humiliate and then kill with his hands (or a shank if he so wishes) this man who, yes, is deserving of something much much much worse...it's all we have.

It's the least we can do to one of the thousands of the most loathsome of all human beings. And as this man says to the press that he has been surprised that more Nazis didn't come forth to take accountability for their hate crimes x hundreds of thousands before they were to "meet their maker", the thing that seems most obvious is it doesn't matter. There is no forgiveness for what he and they did. The afterlife and whatever it may or may not hold will not be kind to such monsters. And energy is real and lasts forever and they have laid an indefensible path before themselves so wide and so long, they will never reach the end of the tunnel. There will be no light.

Give him 6 years you fools, whatever he has left, it will be even less. How is this even a question?

Found it