It's just going to suck. You're going to have to get used to that.

I'd like to take a moment to quote my dear friend Misha, who very sagely opined some years ago:

Human relations. All bullshit.

I remember sitting with at least 2 of you at like 3 AM drinking and arguing this point.
Sorry, some of you were in agreeance, some weren't.

Of course, you WERE all chicks (and at least one of you was a chiseled 6'5" 250 lb Samoan).


See, anytime you're talking about a relationship with another human (who ISN'T blood), the thing is, well....they're another human.
So they aren't going to be the same as you.
Which means the entire proposition is goin to be predicated on a compromise.

And you know how Larry David defines a compromise, don't you?

A deal where NOBODY gets what they want.

So if you're sitting there thinking that, in some Disney-esque stroke of fairy dust, a relationship with someone who doesn't share your DNA is going to be, or is even fuckin SUPPOSED to be, Christmas Day, a month at the beach, the Sasuke finals

and your favourite porno all rolled into one, well...
You're just going to be unhappy, that's all.
You don't agree?

As I mentioned to The Irish a while ago, I challenge you to find ANYONE who's been married for longer than 3 years (who isn't a liar, hypocrite, or moron) who can (honestly) say

Hey, this is working out WAY better than I thought it would.

So.

The Good News

If you don't expect more from the deal than you should, you can avoid colossal Junior High School-type disappointment, and focus on the good stuff that DOES happen.

The Bad News
And I learned about this a long time ago, since my family is pretty much exclusively composed of sisters, Aunties, and nieces, and it continues to be reflected in MY feelings for all of you...

NOBODY is ever going to  be good enough for you, by my own personal benchmark.

I guess that's just something you're all going to have to get used to.

Naturally, I expect nothing less from you lot.

Raj

Everybody needs a break.

So I read this book by a Green Beret platoon leader in Kandahar

Pretty cool stuff.
These dudes

spend all their time patrolling around in these

with a couple hummers along for support.
They sleep on the hoods at night to keep the camel spiders off.

The guy writes about being in the middle of a five-day patrol out in the desert and shit and waking up after a few hours and pluggin the coffeepot into the cigarette lighter of the Toyota and making coffee for the team.

Hmmmm.

What it DID remind me of, though, was Frederick Forsyth talking about the SAS lads

tooling around in the desert outside of Baghdad in like 1990.

Long before this picture was taken, no actual pictures available because,  fucking SAS, right?

Anyways, their deal was, of course, they'd travel at night and put up during the day, not just because they weren't (duh) supposed to be there, but also for temperature considerations as well.
Any fuckin ways, Forsyth tells how they'd stop and make camp and stretch a cammie net over the whole deal so they couldn't be seen from the air

See, it works, right?

and the first thing someone would do was to put the kettle on over a little chunk of C4 and they'd all have tea.

Both are pretty cool, but I think the squaddies have a bit of an edge.

Raj

Friday? We just HAD a fuckin Friday!

HA! You all thought I was going to post that Little Caesar video that Carson sent me, didn't you?
Come on, admit it.


But WHY in the world would I post that for Friday Rock and Roll when I already sent it out to like half of you bastards already?

Jeez, I got SOME fuckin standards, you know.


Anyways, try THIS mofo on for size. Not terribly far off from the Caesars on the style/genre continuum, although I don't know what the fuck you'd call this, we used to call it Biker Rock, for lack of a better term.
There were tons of bands playing stuff like this in roadhouses and rough-ish clubs in the waning days of me time at home, and it was pretty much always a REAL good time.

I'm sure Snady would say it's "Pub Rock", but he says that about anything that isn't metal or hardcore punk that uses electric guitars (personally I don't think there is such a fuckin thing, I think he made the whole deal up. OR the dementia has finally arrived).

Oh, and for the love of fuck, don't get The Count started on that Northern Soul horseshit.

Anyways, dig it up and dig it down, these bad boys should get you wherever the fuck you need to be for the auld weekend.
And we sure hope it's worth the trip.

As always, have a good one, my babies.
 

Raj

PS It's good to be back

OW! Mmmm OW!! Mmmmmm OWWW!! Mmmmmmmmm...

Shit fucking fire, man.
I threw together this kind of a chicken and sausage and vegetable stew deal for today's lunch, not exactly like this,

but not far off.
Threw some grated cheese on top, so far, mmmm, good eating, right?

Yeah, but then I added no more than a fuckin soupçon of this fuckin Sambal lado mudo that I got at the Indonesian grocery from that old lady, the one who's like 189 fuckin years old and doesn't speak any fucking discernible language at all.
Maybe I should have tried ancient fuckin Cimmerian or something, maybe next time when I go in, I'll give out with a big old

By Crom!!!

Man, I TOTALLY had this comic, I shit thee not

and see if that gets a fuckin rise out of her.

Seriously, man, Granny's about old enough to have been like one of actual Conan's original babes.

ANY fuckin ways.

So I got this fuckin sambal, and it's just plain fucking SaTANically fucking hot, man

Like, I mean, seriously, I keep checking to see if the bottom of the jar is still there. You wouldn't dare to put this shit in anything plastic, I mean it.

And fucking  forget about it if you ever got any fuckin on you, man, honest to fuck, next thing you know you'd be all fucking melting like the gay kid from Fame in RoboCop.

Anyways, I just put a little bit, and it was still just fucking  furiously spicy.

But sooo fucking good.

You know how that gets, like with Indian or Thai food or some fucking thing, where it's physically fucking painful to eat it, but it's so utterly fucking delicious you can't stop???

I figure this must be what BDSM

is like.

Raj

Ach, fuckin POETRY, man...

You know, there's just something about masterfully deployed language that touches you, way, down, deep, in the very center of your soul.

I was actually going to preface this with a disclaimer indicating that it contains some paraphrasing of existing work

but, fuck it, by this stage of the game you got to reckon pretty much EVERYTHING out of our mouths is a quote of one kind or another.)

Any fucking ways, the circumstances of the exchange are immaterial, just enjoy the mellifluous outpouring of heartfelt emotion...

"...I’m going to go over there and beat the shit out of him, and he’s gonna swallow a lot of blood for a fucking set of cheap tuners."

"Yeah, and whilst he’s lying on the ground looking up at you through a red haze while spitting out f*ckin Chiclets, you should give him a summarizing punt in the goolies and say
'YOU ain’t a fuckin ‘guitar hero’, (boot) I’M a fuckin guitar hero!'”

Man, I tell you, the Masters make it all look SO easy...

Raj

Goin out on a fuckin limb here

I wouldn't want anyone to think I was just trying to be cool, and, as always, you're all entitled to your own opinions,

You know, I think it really IS pronounced TAY-pas...

and at the risk of maybe missing an invite or two to the odd event,

well, I kind of hate to say it, but...

Raj

Apology and errata

Damn, I couldn't be sorrier, honestly...

In that last post?

Remember when I said that, if you engaged in certain defined behaviours, that:

You're a waterbrained scrote pigfucker.

Get the fuck out of here and don't come back.

?

Well, I really want to apologise.
I shouldn't have said that.

What I really meant to say was, if you do happen to meet the stated criteria, well

You're a waterbrained scrote pigfucker.

Get the fuck out of here and don't come back.
If you don't want me to kick you in the fuckin jaw and take your fucking wallet.

Whew.
Glad we got all that sorted.

Raj

Signposts for Inspiration

Hey now.
Well it looks like we might maybe be crawling up out of that long dark valley of non-communicativity and may possibly be in the mood to share a few thoughts.

Before we do, however, one feels the need to get somewhat prescriptive on you all.

Just a couple of general notes here.
While, in general, we try hard to stick with our WWDD (What Would Dylan Do) directive..
No, piñata head, not that Dylan

Fucked up do, check

or that Dylan

Again with the fucked up do

or even that Dylan

The fuck is it with these bastards and their fucking hair, anyways?

No, I'm talking about THE Dylan

Obviously no hair issues HERE

Oh hell yes.

(OK, technically, he's a "Dillon" not a "Dylan", but seriously, did you want me to start getting into this

kind

of

shit?

Of COURSE you didn't)

Any fucking ways, we're talking about THE Dylan, who among many other memorable quotes,

You're all gonna die. The only question is how you check out. Do you want it on your feet? Or on your fuckin' knees... begging? I ain't much for begging! Nobody ever gave me nothing! So I say *fuck* that thing! Let's fight it!

Yeah, well you don't wanna know me, lady. I'm a murderer and rapist of women.

Gave us the timeless basis on which we strive daily to conduct ourselves, specifically

But we tolerate anybody. Even the intolerable.

And how.

EVEN SO.

There's a couple of items that we need to go over.

We've discussed the iPad deal already.

 

Just a couple more coathooks on which to hang the knowledge that you AREN'T a useless douchebag.

First, if you now refer, or have EVER referred to this country

Boy, it really DOES look like some kind of garden pest, doesn't it?

as "The 'Wan"...

You're a waterbrained scrote pigfucker.

Get the fuck out of here and don't come back.

Also,
If you now refer, have EVER referred, or even THOUGHT about referring to this dish

as "Eggs Benny", well...

 

You're a waterbrained scrote pigfucker.

Get the fuck out of here and don't come back.

All RIGHTY then.

Raj

I ain't telling you how to run your life or anything, but...

Now it ain't MY job to tell you how to live, heaven knows.

And nobody's saying you HAVE to do this.

BUT, we're certain here that, if you DO take it upon yourself to follow these few simple directions, you're pretty nearly guaranteed to see a marked improvement in your overall quality of life.
So, you know, git on it boy.

1. Take off your shoes.
2. Take off your shirt.
3. Preset the playback volume on the microprocessor-controlled multimedia device of your choice as close as possible to WAY THE FUCK UP.
   
   
   
4. Open an icy cold container of a reasonably priced yet perfectly palatable domestic ale or lager product, according to your personal taste.
5. Pour at least a quarter of the beverage directly onto your exposed chest, and, as always,

(technically, it ain't a retread, last time I posted the music video)

Now go and Friday yourselves silly.

Raj

Addendum

Crap, I forgot two of my faves there yesterday

and, of course (how could I have ever forgotten?)

Badass skippers, every one.

Raj

It might have been their mission...

...but it was sure as shit the Chief's boat

Holy cow, the second rabidly anticipated theatrical event of the year coming up this weekend.

Sheet mon, the feckin PREQUEL to one of our most favouritest space-fi epics of all time

brought to you by its original creator, look out Nellie!

Not unlike last time, not only is the plain idea of this bugger cooler than shit, as we've been going along following its progress,



it just gets cooler




and cooler.

Holy crap, you got Rids

You got Ids

You got Rones

and her sainted behind

Hell, you got Fasso

starring as David Feckin Bowie

AND Fuckin Pearcy

Just to keep things interesting.

But for me, I got to say, for me, it looks like it's going to be ALL

about the boat.

If you know me at all, you KNOW I'm a sucker

for

a badass

vessel

AND for badass skippers

of

same

THIS bad boy appears poised to qualify quite handily.

On both

fucking

counts.

Yippee.

Prometheus, are you getting this???

Raj