The very bottom of everything…
October 18, 2013
“We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues in the books that we have read
And in the face of every criminal, strapped firmly to a chair,
we must stare, we must stare, we must stare”
I wasn’t planning a blog post but then, I got caught in this conversation about money…
“We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn’t dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing”
I was explaining that when you treat your clients to a nice dinner, you could end up with some really large credit card charges. Of course, your clients will undoubtedly spend more money with you, allowing you to pay your higher credit cards charges and getting you an even higher credit limit, which will allow you to spend even more money…
“We must blend into the choir, sing astatic with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
And in this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run”
The number kept escalating until someone said,
“…and you can clearly see why, at that point, you’d have no choice but to buy a Ferrari.”
“We must hang up in the belfry where the bats and moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge”
Then my friend asked,
“so Archie, where does it all end?”
“While my mother waters plants, my father loads his guns
He says death will give us back to God, just like this setting sun
…is returned to this lonesome ocean”
And I said, “it all ends when you die
and your $500K life insurance policy goes to pay your last month’s AMEX bill”.
“Oh my morning’s coming back, the whole world’s waking up
All the city buses swimming past, I’m happy just because
…I found out I am really no one.”
And that deserves something, don’t you think?
Well, here’s something…
Rosi Golan released her new EP, Fortuna, this week.
It’s available on Amazon for $3.99 by going here…
http://www.amazon.com/Fortuna-Rosi-Golan/dp/B00F8ZIZC2/
And from Fortuna, here she is performing Give Up The Ghost on Perez TV…
For those of you who are easily confused, she’s the one on the right, the one with
the great knees. It’s OK. I had to play it twice and stare at her knees too. It’s cool.
Rosi… Love ya! Call me.
And as if this weren’t enough…
Here’s a quick Redhead of the Week.
And now your life is complete, isn’t it?
I’m very happy that I could be a part of that.
By the way, we’re going to have to discuss the rules surrounding Redhead of The Week.
Thanks to all who have sent me photos but… I either need to know that it’s a photo found readily on the Internet, so that I can link to it – or – I need to know that it’s a photo of YOU and you’re giving me permission to use it. My legal department has been all over my shit.
Of course, we can always arrange for a photo shoot.
In the meantime, I think we have a form. 🙂
OK, that’s it. uh, see you next time…
Oh, and a big Thank You to Conner Oberst and Bright Eyes for the Lyrics to their song, At The Bottom of Everything, found scattered throughout this post. I’d forgotten how much I like listening to you guys – but I’m back.
Until next time… Peace!
– Arch
Riding through this world, all alone…
September 14, 2013
SPECIAL SATURDAY EDITION
Dear President Raspberry,
(Note: I was going to call him BlackBarry – that’s not a misspelling – but I didn’t want to offend anyone, like the folks at Research in Motion, makers of the BlackBerry mobile phone products.)
Your speech on Tuesday night was brilliant, as always. Thanks for keeping it short and not interfering with the season premiere of Sons of Anarchy on FX – a truly disturbing show.
But let me see if I understand this…
Using some of your own words, 98% of humanity has decided that chemical weapons are of such a horrific nature, that they have been deemed internationally illegal under all circumstances. No nation may use them, even as a last ditch effort to save themselves, because… We, as humans, have collectively decided that we will not be that kind of race or live on that kind of planet.
Now we have definite proof that the currently-in-power Syrian government has violated this “prime directive” of humanity, gassing of hundreds of civilian women and children, and we, first of all, have failed to smack them down for it. Second, after an unimaginable amount of time, deciding how to smack them down gently, while they were lying to the world and saying, “we didn’t use chemical weapons, we don’t have chemical weapons, we don’t even know where to get chemical weapons” – now, we’re not going to smack them down at all.
The Russians say to them, “hey…if you give up your chemical weapons, I bet we can get the US to back off” …and they say, “oh…OK”. And we’re good with that!!! WTF?
An unstable (from an international security perspective) government commits crimes against humanity and we just take their toys away and look the other way? This is equivalent to someone shooting a few thousand people and, at the end of the day, we just take away their AK47, and give them a $5 gift card to Starbucks. Unfr#@kin’ believable.
So then, the French, known for their courage and valor, chime in and say, “yes…let’s take away their chemical weapons but there will be grave penalties for failing to comply with the rules set out by the international community”. Ha, ha!!! And what did Syria say?
They said, “oh no… we’l relinquish the chemical weapons (that we don’t have), but no one is coming here to police us, tell us what to do, or enforce anything”.
I suppose we’re going to be good with that too?
Why not? He seems like a nice guy…
Unfr#@kin’ believable. Did I already say that?
It will be interesting to see how this plays out…
Let’s change the subject!
Let’s talk about:
An airplane full of hot chicks…
So a few weeks ago, I’m coming back from Remulak (a small village in France) and, as we’re getting ready to board, I look around and I’m thinking, “wow…this hasn’t happened in a while”. Barnsley and I had booked a flight on what could only be described as…a plane full of supermodels. I mean, there were only about 5 people on flight who weren’t hot chicks: Me, Barnsley, the guy who looked like Freddie Mercury (not long-haired Freddy Mercury, more like the short-haired big mustache Freddy Mercury), the bad ass Hungarian lady who looked like she wanted to kick your ass, and the lady with a bright white glowing paleness emanating from her skin. Other than that, all hot chicks of varying ages, sizes, and skirt lengths.
We board the plane and, as it turns out, Barnsley and I both have window seats on opposite sides of the same row. I’m in Seat 29A and he’s in Seat 29F. In a loud whisper, I’m like, “Barns…have you noticed all the hot chicks on this flight?”
Just then the Hungarian lady arrives and takes Seat 29C, leaving empty the seat immediately next to me. Oh and here comes a good looking redhead…and she’s glancing this way. Could it be??? No! The good looking redhead takes Seat 29D, across the aisle, over by Barnsley and he instantly tries charming her with all of his Britishness.
Next comes a good looking blonde wearing a black skirt and possibly the longest legs that anyone has ever seen. Seriously. Think of the longest legs you’ve ever seen, then add about three inches – now you’re getting close. “Legs” looks at the seat next to me, then looks at the Hungarian lady like, “yo bitch… you’re in my seat”. The Hungarian then lady looks at me like – “if you talk to me, I will kill you” – as she slides her massive body towards me. Ignoring the Hungarian delegate, I try saying “hello” to the blonde. She somewhat acknowledges my presence and then speaks something in a foreign language. I not sure she said anything to me. It was more of a general announcement to anyone listening. In retrospect, I think she was hinting to the Hungarian lady, “shall we kill him now or later?” Just then the Hungarian lady looks at me like – “update: if you talk to my girlfriend I will also kill you”.
Just then, the guy who looks like Freddie Mercury shows up and takes the seat in between Barnsley and the redhead. Meanwhile, the long legged blonde sits down, causing her skirt to shift upward about three feet. Her knees are touching the back of the seat in-front of her. I’m powerless to look away until…I that sense that someone is looking at me. Ugh… The Hungarian lady is actually starring at me. She doesn’t say a word but her look says, “if you think you’re going to look at her knees this whole flight, you will die quietly somewhere over the Atlantic”.
Over on Barnsley’s side, he was apparently sexting with someone and Freddie Mercury kept looking over his shoulder at his phone, so he starts typing…
“OK, you wanker, I see you. I know you’re reading this.”
“That’s right, I’m talking to you.”
“You keep this up, I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Elbow.”
“Nice pants, by the way.”
Freddy spent the next ten hours talking to the redhead and watching the knees across the aisle from him. Scared to death of the Hungarian lady, I planned to spend most of the next ten hours looking out the window. But then, in the middle of the boarding process, a glowing light seemed to be shining down upon us.
Whoa… The bright white glowing lady was sitting in the row in front of me.
I looked over and the Hungarian lady was now wearing sunglasses…at night.
(Probably so she can weave then breath your story lines.
I turn to her and say: Don’t switch the blade on the guy in shades. Oh, no!)
They say that when life give you lemons, you should make lemonade. Well, there’s no way the Hungarian lady was going to squeeze my lemons (insert Led Zeppelin lyrics here). So sometimes, you just have to order lemonade (or whatever is available) from the flight attendants and several of those little bottles of Jack Daniels.
Bottom Line: It’s a good thing I sleep well on airplanes.
“See you in the next life, wake me up for meals.” – Warren Zevon
What’s up with Miley Cyrus?
I mean, she’s always been somewhat annoying, her and her Achy Breaky Mullet-Sporting Dad
but at least she was reasonably cute…
How did this happen…
And what exactly is she doing to that hammer? Is Peter Gabriel watching this and yelling, “it took 27 years, but someone finally gets what I meant by… I wanna be your sledgehammer!”
I can see the director saying, “now Miley, it’s going to take balls to do this”.
But ultimately, they decided on just one big ball…
Here, just watch the Wrecking Ball video…
It’s as if Robyn lost a bet and had to perform a Gotye song… Naked… On construction equipment! Speaking of wrecking, it’s a lot more like a train wreck – it’s not pretty but for some reason, you can’t stop looking.
Now this does not make her our musical guest of the week.
This week’s musical guest is someone who you’ve most likely not heard of – it’s just a great video that I stumbled across. If you’re a fan of Talking Heads and you appreciate an artist who can drive an acoustic-electric axe, run a looper, and deliver a fabulous one-man remake of an 80’s classic, do not miss this. Here is YouTube recording artist, Jason Montero’s and his version of Psycho Killer…
Love it… Great stuff, Jason!
That’s it. That’s pretty much all I have today. Although if we’re going to do a Saturday morning edition, we really can’t not-recognize one the greatest Saturday morning redheads of all time. I mean, she has to be in her late 60s by now and yet, she still looks hot. I am, of course, talking about… Daphne.
Settle down, boys…
She’s not just a little animated. (Daph… Call me.)
And that really is all that I have for today.
Other than to say…
My name is Archie Westen. I used to be a spy. 🙂
Great run, boys! Fun show. Appropriate ending.
Gotta run… Peace!!!
– Arch
So you think you can tell, heaven from hell…
September 6, 2013
A communist, a Muslim, and a black guy walk into a bar.
The bartender says, “what can I get you, Mr. President?”
Hey, die-hard Obama fans: That was a joke!
But if there’s one possible good thing that could come from the problems in Syria, it’s that people can stop saying/thinking that President O is a Muslim, as it is so obvious that he totally does not understand the Muslim world, or most of the Middle East for that matter. Unfortunately, it also shows that his administration, the leaders of our country, seem to have little or no clue concerning how that part of the world works.
And I too will sound ignorant if I make it sound like it’s all about the Muslims. It isn’t. Syria has a diverse religious population with many Christians – similar to Egypt. It’s complicated and “we” don’t seem to get that.
And now, what should be, a big concern is coming to fruition…
We have changed Presidents, but we will continue to look like idiots, it the eyes of the world – maybe even bigger idiots. President O has a great speech writer and he does a great job of delivering those speeches but sometimes, he should shut the hell up – and act!
Two years ago, he said that President Assad of Syria needed to go. No U.S. President should ever make a statement like that without a plan. Did we think that the Syrian government was going to be overthrown via Facebook & Twitter? Syria is a different animal. Obviously when Obama made this statement he did not understand Syria and how deeply rooted and well supported Assad’s administration is. And what are the alternatives?
Well, (obviously) there are two sides to the Syrian civil war… There’s Assad, who Obama said needs to go, and then there are the same folks that we are battling (and bombing with drones) in Yemen and Afghanistan. The folks known for supporting Al-Qeada. So is that the side we’re on now? Does this make any sense? No. Instead it’s a glaring example of this administrations inability to think through the implications of their rhetoric. Of course, maybe it doesn’t matter since (speaking of drones) most Obama followers just love whatever he says today without remembering what he said in the past.
To make things worse, POTUS drew some lines in the sand, a while back, and said that certain things would not be tolerated. One example was the use of banned weapons. So now, with fairly clear evidence that the Syrian government killed over 1400 of their own people using Sarin gas, Obama has decided to ask Congress whether or not we should take action.
Seriously?
Here we have a President who says, “if you do this – we will smack you”. Then someone does it and he doesn’t act. This is equivalent to having a bully kick you in the rear and you decide to fight back but first you decide to ask everyone at your church group what you should do. Chances are, they are going to tell you to turn the other cheek.
Get it? Kick you in the rear – turn the other cheek.
I crack myself up sometime. OK, all the time. But I digress…
So the UN thinks we should do something, the Arab States think we should do something, and Obama said, “this menace must be confronted” – but we’ve done nothing. He asked Congress to decide and… Oh, they are not-around right now…see you next week. Seriously?
This is awesome. So now, if Congress says “no”, B.O. can say, “I wanted to smack Syria (like the tough guy that I am) but Congress said no.”…and if Congress says “yes”, he can send off a few missiles and feel like it wasn’t all his idea. What’s funny is how over the past few days, we are trying to decide exactly how to smack Syria.
“OK, boys… I want a fair fight out there. No hitting below the belt. You can only smack Syria in the face with an open hand. If you want to punch’em in the face, you must use a glove. Oh, and there will be no biting of the ears – just in case Mike Tyson joined the military.”
Of course, this is all designed to try and get a YES vote – pretty please. We promise to only use the nice bombs. And we promise to only target some empty buildings, and we promise…
In the meantime, I’m sure the Syrians are watching CNN, waiting to hear how the U.S. Congress votes, so they can decide whether or not to return to work in the building that we would most likely target. After all, doesn’t that sound fair… You gas 1400+ or your men, women and children, Saddam Hussein style, and in exchange, we’ll just blow up a few of your buildings. Awesome.
We’ve become a nation of the gutless leading the gutless. I’m out.
Now I know, someone out there is asking, “why do we have to be the world’s police?”
Good question. Why don’t we let Saudi Arabia, Qatar or the United Arab Emirates deal with this, it’s happening in their back yard to their brothers and sisters? Because it’s our job. We outsource tons of thing to India. Well, these guys have outsources their police work to us. It’s what we need to do. It’s what keeps them in our pockets. It is what it is… ’nuff said.
As stupid as it sounds to do something, sometime next week, I hope Congress proves me wrong and authorizes some sort of a response to Syria – knowing full-well that such an attack will accomplish absolutely nothing – other than show the world that we still remember how to smack you down when you cross the lines that we draw. My guess is that Adolph Hitler could make a comeback and our current Congress would not authorize an attack. So, there you go world… Obama wont strike without asking Congress and Congress won’t attack. I guess it’s a good day for Al Qeada.
Mental Note: Don’t get an office at the Sears Tower. (41°52′43.82″N, 87°38′9.73″W)
By the way, who is Willis?
There’s no off position on the stupid switch…
Hmmm… According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, a woman called the police because her drug dealer was charging too much for marijuana. She was then arrested and charged with misusing 911.
Here’s the full story…
http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/crime-and-courts/drug-dealer-overcharged-for-marijuana-st-louis-woman-claims-in/article_43a691a2-c027-56b6-9d5b-74eaad5665ad.html
Clearly, she needed to call the Consumer Protection Agency and not 911. She was arrested for misusing 911 because, although the police undoubtedly agreed with her that no one wants to overpay for marijuana, this was not an emergency. She’d already paid. Maybe if she called during the transaction itself, then maybe it could have been considered an emergency. Particularly if she was low on cash and her drug dealer was like, “pay up, bitch!”
The most troubling this in this article is where it mentions that her criminal history includes convictions for “assault, harassment and prostitution”. Prostitution, seriously? This had to be a case of an undercover cop posing as a “John”. I mean, I’ve never been to St. Louis, so I’m not familiar with the “local color” there, if you know what I mean but… Who goes out looking for a prostitute, finds this lady, and thinks, “yeah, baby…that’s the one for me.”
Yikes!
Barnsley, you are correct. There’s a whole lot of ugly so far in this week’s post and that was the cherry on top – so to speak. So we need to immediately move to…
Unknown Redhead of the Week…
That’s right. We usually know who the redhead of the week is – but not this time. Our research department receives a number of emails and suggestions every week and this was one of them. Unfortunately, the research department (Barnsley) isn’t very organized and therefore, we don’t remember where we got this picture or who is in it.
That said, if this is a picture of you, please contact us. 🙂
Of course, we will need additional photos in order to positively identify you.
Here she is, the unknown redhead of the week…
Unknown Redhead
Are those kitty ears? Meow.
I think it worked. I think there was enough “cute” there to counteract all of the previous ugliness. And therefore, it’s time for me to get out – leave on a high note.
You’ve been a lovely crowd but I am out of here.
Smootchie, bootchies…
Be safe. Arch on!
– Arch
Send my mail to the Rosarita Beach Cafe…
August 23, 2013
Wow… Mexico is just 8 years away now. Nice!
I can probably do that. I just have to make sure that I make it to 2021.
To that end, I’ve started a checklist:
– Fly U.S. Air as little as possible
Is a list with only one thing on it really a list?
OK, to make sure it’s a list, I’ll put two things on it:
Well, I’ve started a checklist:
– Fly U.S. Air as little as possible
– Avoid the Clarion Hotel at LaGuardia
So, I recently traveled to New York City for my annual gathering where we rent out the Modell’s Clubhouse at Citi Field and invite a number of our clients to join us for some bad stadium food, washed down by an unlimited number of tasty beverages…and no, I didn’t fly U.S. Air.
As usual, the travel itself was just about as entertaining as anything else…
When visiting Greater New York City, I usually stay either in Manhattan or, if I’ll primarily be out towards Long Island, I stay in Westbury, where there’s a fine Hilton Garden Inn and, believe it or not, even the Red Roof Inn is fairly nice. This time, however, we decided to stay closer to Citi Field and we booked rooms at the Clarion Hotel at LaGuardia.
Now, I have to say, the hotel lobby was quite nice for being a busy and relatively low-budget hotel and the rooms were not bad at all. From what I could tell, the whole place was clean and well maintained. The problem with this place is that it was built on a hill. I know, you’re probably thinking, “lots of places are built on hills, what could go wrong?”
Well, almost everything I’ve ever seen built on a hill is built so that when you’re inside, you don’t notice the hill. In other words, you dig out the hill and build a level building. Not the case here. The lobby is level and the floor in each of the rooms are level but the rooms on the same floor are not level with each other and the hallways curve downward in the shape of the hill. It’s about the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.
When you take the elevator up to the third floor and then look down the long corridor, it looks like you’re ending up all the way back down near the first floor. I’m not sure that this picture really captures what I am describing but check out the hallway slant at the bottom of each wall on the right side. It’s crazy.
Next we noticed that everyone who checked in was being given a room on the third floor. So, before studying the hotel from the outside, we were thinking that maybe there was no first floor and Barnsley was sure that the second floor was reserved for a race of pygmies that frequently visit Queens. As it turns out, the hotel does appear to have three floors. All three floors are just contoured to the shape of the hill that the building sits on. Again, it’s one of the nuttiest things I’ve ever seen.
Breakfast
Next, the hotel comes with one of those free continental breakfast bars and really, REALLY, it was probably one of the worst ones I’ve ever seen. Nevertheless, the WiFi in the breakfast area was good and so was the entertainment. First, there was a giant sign that said…
Then there was this crazy Asian lady who apparently likes her muffins toasted. You guessed it. Moments later there were flames shooting out of the toaster and the hotel lobby was filling up with smoke. At first, crazy Asian lady and her daughter tried sticking metal objects into the running toaster to remove the burning muffin. They were unsuccessful at removing the muffin and, somehow, also managed not to electrocute themselves. Disappointing, I know. I had front row seats for this show! So they decided to go sit down and pretend they had nothing to do with this as people from the hotel staff arrived, fanning the air, and hoping to not trigger the fire alarm.
Just after the smoke clears, a guy walks in the front door, and grabs himself some coffee and a plate and starts to eat. Someone from the hotel staff approaches the man and asks, “Sir, are you a guest of the hotel?”
Instantly the man responds, “Yes… Berkowitz Room #312.”
The gentleman from the hotel heads towards the front desk to check it out. The moment he turned his back, Berkowitz grabs another muffin and hauls-ass out the front door. I’m thinking, “Hmmm… Even Berkowitz, the homeless guy, knows that everyone stays on the third floor.”
Having had enough fun, I return to my room and get ready to check out. As I’m stepping out of my room, here comes a hotel maid running down the hallway (downhill) towards me chasing a rolling can of Lysol at high speed and yelling in Spanish. Luckily I hadn’t locked the door behind me. So I step back into my room, turn around and watch as the can goes by… Vrrrroom! …followed by Señora Reyez-Jimenez-Rodriguez… Vrrrroom!
“Estoy tan cansada de trabajar aqui en esta hotel loco!”
I checked for additional traffic. Seeing none – I was out of there.
Mental Note: Barnsley doesn’t get to pick our hotels anymore.
I’ll have to tell you about the flight back at another time. You’ll want to hear it. It involves an airplane full of supermodels and a guy who looked like Freddy Mercury. But right now, we must get on to the important work of our order, because you know…
There’s no off position on the stupid switch!
If there was, KTVU in San Francisco would not have broadcast fake names when reporting the names of the pilots who crashed while landing Asiana Flight #214 last month. First, if you haven’t already seen it, take a look at what they actually aired…
Dey So Dum!
Seriously… How did this get on the air?
I’ll tell you. The 24-hour news cycle has killed the integrity of news.
These days it’s all about the sensationalism and who has the story first.
If you give them information, they run with it. By the way, “Fuk” is not pronounced “Fook!”
Now enjoy this report by hot chick, Ana Kasparian…
Redhead / Non-Readhead of the Week
I can’t tell anymore. It’s all getting a little blurry out there.
But one thing is clear, you know who is the hot chick of the week?
It’s YOU.
No. Not you, Barnsley.
It’s YOU. YOU know who YOU are. Hey… I’m talking to YOU.
So YOU want to see your photo? Just find yourself a mirror…
Ah… Looking good, mamma!
OK, so… YOU are like the hot chick of the week, we covered that.
But we still need some sort of a hot chick photo… yes.no?
Well, thankfully, Susanna Hoffs just sent us this photo…
Susanna Hoffs
Susanna Hoffs… Love her. Everyone should have one.
Are we done?
Oh, no wait… We do have a musical guest today.
I’ve been re-appreciating Rosi Golan lately.
That’s pronounced Go-lahn, not Go-len (apparently).
Anyway, here’s a live performance of Can’t Go Back…
Hmmm… Good song but I think you can almost always go back. Can’t you?
Does anyone recall my Cheeseburger theory? Have we discussed The Sheep Standard?
Ugh… So much to discuss and only one of me…and I’m only getting busier. 😦
Well, I have to go for today but I’ll be back soon enough.
“Soon Enough”… That’s the only promise I can really make. Soon enough, my friends.
Be good. Be Safe. Arch on!
– Arch
You say Al-Kay-Dah, I say Al-Kai-Dah…
August 16, 2013
OK, so…
I’m getting bombarded with people asking me, “Where’s my Archie Kobain?”
Here’s the deal. Archie is near death. But not like the dying kind of death.
You wanna know why I’m not writing more often? It’s not because I have nothing to say. It’s because I can’t bring myself to sit in front of a computer and type. Listen here… The day I get out of the technology business, I will become an anti-technology evangelist.
I recently walked into a room full of kids. When I was their age, we would have been playing, beating each other up, plotting to burn the house down, etc., etc. Do you know what these kids were doing? They were each staring at an iThing – Pod, Pad, Thing.
I’m like, “hey kids…What the f@#K?”
And like the mindless lumps of poop that these kids have become, their like, “uh…what?”
So I took all of their iThingies and I threw them on the ground, stomped on them using my Merrell Moab Waterproof Hiking Boots, then doused them with lighter fluid and threw them onto the barbie… The kids were screaming, “Uncle Archie killed our iThingies!!!” It was awesome. Besides, I love the smell of burning, designed in California but made-in-China, plastic and electronics in the morning. Ha, ha!!!
Then last week, I went to a party in Me-Ahm-Me (Miami) with a bunch of old Cubanos. They were great. There were old, sweaty, shirtless guys missing their nightly game of dominoes for this gathering. There were guys in guayaveras, guys in hot pink fluorescent shirts, women wearing pants that were way too tight. It was awesome. Everyone was way friendly until the party host’s granddaughter arrived with her husband. They seemed to avoid making eye contact with anyone. They just walked through the party, sat at table, and got out their phones. They didn’t even seen to talk to each other much, other than when she showed him stuff on her iPhone. Then he’d go back to looking at his iPhone. WTF?
Later I found out they had a baby… I guess there must be a app for that?
Most recently, I popped in to my local doughnut shop for a slab of greasy fried dough and a shot of caffeine. As I sat there chomping on my calorie-rich, nutrition-minus breakfast, several other patrons entered the establishment. A white lady with two high-school age girls, followed by a black lady who was talking on her cell phone.
The whiteys placed their orders, then immediately sat down and got out their iThings. All three of them. Again, no one is talk to each other, they’re all just staring at iThings. The black lady was now placing her order, while still holding her phone up to her head and having a combo conversation with the guy working the counter and whoever was on the phone – simultaneously!
What is wrong with everyone? Stop stop it with the Cell Phones.
Start talking to the person next to you. Now!!! One on One communications. It’s a lost art.
And then there’s Obama Juan Kenobee…
Is everyone else as tired of this guy as I am?
Now, I know that I am easily confused but…
I’d swear that I saw President O on television, not too long ago, announcing that “we got Bin Laden and Al Qaeda is on the run”.
So now, we intercept an Al Qaedian message that says, “do something” and suddenly, we’re closing embassies all over the Eastern Hemisphere and putting American everywhere on travel alerts. Does that sound like THEY are on the run or does that sound more like we’re the ones “on the run”…? You decide.
But aside from all of this…
I’m boiling mad! Boiling, I say.
You wanna know why? Because I’m tired of living in a country of whiners.
Whine, whine, whine… About everything.
I was just recently reading about a bunch of whiners in Colorado. Colorado has basically legalized marijuana. This is only bad for drug dealers and DEA agents who may suddenly find themselves unemployed. But this particular group of whiners, in the newspaper, were concerned about zoning laws and where they should allow marijuana to be sold.
How about this – how about anywhere that there’s a liquor store?
Some of the whiners were saying, “we don’t want marijuana dispensers in public places (like on Main Street) where we will have to explain head-shops to our children”. Why not? What do you tell your kids when they see a liquor store?
“Well you see kids… over here they sell liquid drugs (alcohol), which we approve of, in spite of all the alcohol related deaths, addictions, health issues… but, over there, they sell a smoke-able herb that’s also a drug but we don’t approve of it, so let’s not discuss it.”
It’s just stupid, stoopid!
(Note: Stoopid is when something is so stupid, you lose the ability to spell.)
But that’s not why I’m boiling mad. I’m boiling over something Stoopid, Stoopid!!!
(That’s right – now we’re getting into the Double-Stoopid arena.)
I’m boiling mad over the T-Shirts that got pulled of the shelves at The Children’s Place.
By the way, they looked like this…
So apparently, parents were outraged by these shirts calling them sexist.
Seriously?
What about those princess outfits that you let your little girl wear when she was 3 or 4, how come you didn’t think those were sexist? Why didn’t you get her a CEO suit?
Here’s the worst thing, after countless parents decided to voice their outrage via FaceTwit and InstaPoop and whatever other thing there is out there these days, The Children’s Place apologized and pulled the shirts. Ridiculous!
To start with, my little girl would absolutely be “born to wear diamonds” and I can only hope to God that her best subjects are Shopping, Music and Dancing. WhoTF wants a little girl who says, “oh no…shopping, dancing, music… I’ll take math please.” Really??? Geek alert!
Here’s what the Children’s Place should have said…
We’re sorry that you don’t like our fine quality shirts… If you don’t like them, then don’t buy them, but given the huge amount of inappropriate crap that most companies sell, that make 10 year old girls look like hookers, we feel that our shirts are pretty low on the list of things you should be concerned about. We are free to market what we choose and you are free to not buy what you find offensive.
But hey, this leads to my next business plan…
It’s a T-shirt company called, No Apologies. Our whole plan is, whenever someone stops selling something because it offended people, we start selling it. Pretty good, huh?
Seriously, give my an Effen break…
Hey, is that Midtown Girl?
Anyway, people really need to get over this kind of whiney crap.
If you don’t like something, don’t buy it. How about that Lone Ranger movie? Apparently it was crap – so no one went to see it. And that’s after they made huge efforts to shift the character of Tonto from being “racist” to merely “racially insensitive”. I didn’t think it was either. I always thought that the Lone Ranger and Tonto were fictional characters that didn’t try to represent any particular group of people, living or otherwise.
Was Star Trek racist to space aliens? They often made aliens look weird. Maybe all space aliens actually look like hot chicks? …or maybe they just make us think they look like hot chicks? And am I stereotyping space aliens by suggesting that they have mind-control abilities.
Stoopid!
I was recently in this store…
It is, of course, owned by some Native Americans. There were no cowboy items inside.
OK, maybe there were a few non-authentic cowboy items. So, as a descendant of early non-native American, European settlers in The West (aka Cowboys), should I have been offended!
Maybe my people should be offended by the term, cowboy. Doesn’t that sound derogatory? “hey…cowboy, get me some milk.” i think from now on, we should only be referred to as, American Horsemen (and Horsewomen)…, or collectively, Horse-people.
I’m really tired of the whole insensitivity thing. Really!
I checked the first amendment. You know, the part where we will make no laws abridging freedom of speech. This means that we will never forbid people from saying whatever they want. It doesn’t say – you can say whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t offend anyone.
Boiling mad…!!!
T’was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair…
And speaking of stupidity…
So many people regularly say to me, “Archie… You are an idiot!”
I’m good with that. Most recently, however, this has been accompanied by…
“You can’t feature the prettiest girl who has ever been on television (Morgan Smith Goodwin, the new Wendy’s girl) in your blog”, they continued. “After that, it’s all downhill from there.”
True, my readers and I did sort of have a “personal moment” with Morgan a few weeks back.
So, is that it? We can’t top Morgan so, why even try? Hmmm… I had not considered that.
Fortunately, I knew exactly what to do… I put Barnsley on it.
“Splendid, Master Kobain”, he said to me. “I’ll be happy to rub one out and assist you in finding the next hottie for your blog.”
I’m not exactly sure what that meant, I think it’s a British thing, but at the end of the day, Barnsley came through with ((drumroll)): Alona Tal
Alona Tal
Holy porcupine dung, Barnsley… Where did you find her?
Seriously, she’s like a non-Redhead version of Morgan…and look at those brown eyes.
Alona Tal
OK, so, for everyone out there who has ever watched one of those military movies where the hot chick shows up and we all go, “oh yeah…right…like that hot chick is really in the military”, Alona is living proof that it could happen. At least in the Israel Defense Forces, you see, this Israeli born hot chick served her country before launching her acting/singing career.
Ah… The Shana Maidela.
OK, Barns… That’s enough. Seriously.
C’mon… The smile, the legs, the boots, the grip on that microphone. I can’t take it.
Let’s change the subject. Besides, I don’t want to get Marcos Ferraez on my ass.
[Barnsley is overheard bumbling off stage.]
That’s her husband, Barnsley. Yes – she is married to a guy who is 20 years older than she is.
I know… It’s like proof that there is hope for guys like you and me.
And don’t worry, Barns… I’m your wing-man.
The moment she calls me, I’ll find out if she has a sister.
Uh… Anything else to discuss today?
Should we discuss the price of bacon in China?
Do they eat bacon in China?
Musical guest… Do we have time for a musical guest?
It’s running a bit long today wouldn’t you say?
I could have sworn I just heard Barnsley say, “that’s what she said”.
OK, well…
Whether or not we actually have time, now that we’re only here about once a month, we have to pack it all in. So, as we prepare to sign off, you should enjoy Preacher’s Daughter by Maggie Rose…
Hello… Is this thing on?
Oh, good. You’re still here.
Well, that’s all we have for today, my brothas and sistas…
Be good. Be well. Be safe. Arch on!
– Arch
Keep Calm – Arch on!
July 5, 2013
Where did he go?
Where did he go now?
Where did he go? (Sweet Archie)
Where did he go now?
I’ve been busy!
To start with, Barnsley got me a new T-shirt and now,
everywhere I go, I seem to have nothing but friends…
And for some reason, everyone calls me Archie F*#cking Kobain.
Barns has tried explaining it to me but I don’t think I get it. I think it’s a British thing.
Maybe I can figure it out before next year when we go to Glastonbury!
So, I completed my tour of the lower tri-state area: Florida, Georgia & Tennessee.
Then, I completed my tour of the upper tri-state area: Connecticut, New York & New Jersey.
The thing is, you really can’t take trips like that without coming across giant piles of stupidity. So much so, that I was going to start a series of articles called: There’s no OFF position on the stupid switch. Since thinking that I was going to do that, however, I’ve come across so much stupidity, that I don’t think I can do it. To a certain degree, I am afraid of looking that much stupidity in the eye for fear that it too will be looking into mine.
So, just today’s big stupid thing…
One of the most Catholic people I know is planning a wedding. Here’s a 40-year-old lady who goes to church every Sunday, sings in the church choir, teaches Sunday school and has never lived with a man, deeply taking to heart most of the teachings of her church. Will she be married in a Catholic church? No… because the man she is marrying has been married before and, therefore, the church will not marry them. Her priest is willing to marry them, just not at a Catholic church.
Now, I’ve always quote Frank Zappa when defining religion as, “foolish rules of ancient date, designed to make us all feel great, while we fold, staple and mutilate, those unbelievers from a neighboring state”. So wouldn’t you think that after 50 years of declining numbers, the Catholic church might want to revise it’s practices and get into the 21st century? Enuff said.
Millionaire in Training…
You know, I always thought for sure that I was going to make millions on something completely ridiculous, like the next Pet Rock or maybe a dumb T-shirt with a picture of Bill Murray on it, but instead, it looks like I’m going to be making my next million the old fashioned way. That’s right, I’m going to develop an app that integrates with Facebook and millions of people will pay me to use it.
Here’s how it works. 1) You download the app and sign up for our service which cost about $100 per month. I know, it sounds expensive, but wait until you hear of the tremendous value that is attached to our app. 2) You integrate our app to your Facebook account. 3) We analyze your Facebook account and ask you a number of questions having to do with your Facebook friends.
Once the integration is complete and our database is updated, the service begins. Now, anytime that one of your Facebook friends shares anything from Farmville with you, we look your friend up, positively identify them from their photos, and dispatch someone from our field support team to beat the crap out of them.
Soon we’ll be able to also beat the crap out of people who make request via Coasterville, Dragon City and, of course, Birthdays!
Is this not the best $100 per month that you could ever spend?
I know. I’m a genius.
Redhead of the Week…
What? I did not say we were going to do an entire year of non-redheads!
Are you sure…
Ugh… Barnsley is making stuff up again.
Doesn’t matter. I make the rules here. It’s my god-damned law firm!
Besides, when someone this cute comes around, all bets are off.
So, is it just me or is the New Wendy’s Girl about the cutest chick to ever be on television?
Instead of watching TV shows, I’m trying to figure out which channels Wendy’s advertises on.
I don’t care about rioting in Cairo, get to the damned commercial.
I called the Tivo DVR people up. They thought I was insane.
They’re like no, we have no way for you to automatically just tape Wendy’s ads.
So who is this hot chick Redhead of the Week? Morgan Smith Goodwin
Morgan Smith Goodwin
I’m not worthy.
Did anyone else’s heart rate just go up?
Normally I would make a joke here like, “Morgan – call me.”
But really, don’t…. Also, no prank calls claiming to be Morgan.
I’m getting older. I could have heart failure.
Seriously, no goofing around.
Morgan Smith Goodwin
Where did you get this picture, Barns?
Look, whatever it is that she’s doing in that picture… I don’t want to know.
Let’s change the topic. I’m having like hot flashes over here.
Quick let’s go to something anti-climactic!
Speaking of medical conditions…
I had to go in for a check-up the other day. These people are so contradictory!
They said, “if you’re taking any medications, be sure to bring them with you”.
Then I get there and they’re like, “why do you have a bottle of tequila with you?”
I don’t understand doctors.
And on an almost sad note…
I must end this week’s engagement with a near death in the family.
This time, however, it’s not a hot chick. It’s actually an ugly lad…
The Ugly Mug in Delray Beach, Florida – the quintessential dive bar of dive bars – is closing.
The property owner just said, “no!” to renewing their lease. I hate Illinois Nazis!
Philly Cheese Steak Sandwiches, Guns & Roses on the Jukebox – where do we do now?
Don’t worry. Be happy…
Although it may not be the same after having been in the old location since the beginning of time, the good news is that the owners of “The Mug” have secured a lease on a new location.
So, a number of days after being nailed to the no-lease-renewal cross, The Mug plan to resurrect in a not-too-far-away location. Near a Home Depot? Near an Applebee’s?
The old location will undoubtedly be leveled to make room for something not-so-ugly. That sucks. Sometimes ugly is exactly what you need. I’ll put $5 in the jar when needed.
Rest in peaceful ugliness Old Mug Location… You were awesome!
Oh, and don’t worry Stones… Your Mug is in safe hands!
That’s all I have for today.
Seriously… That’s it. I gotta go.
See ya!
– Keep Calm, Arch on!
Where do we go…?
May 24, 2013
You know what I noticed in Europe? No one had iPhones. Not the Europeans, anyway.
Every time I saw someone fumbling around with one of those things, it was an Americano.
And they were usually holding it up in the air, trying to get a signal. Every European had either a BlackBerry or Samsung. In retrospect, every European had sense.
Here is The States, everyone is like… “Archie, get yourself an iPhone.”
I’m like, “no… I just want a phone that makes phone calls”. I already have a phone that does email, text messages, takes pictures! I don’t want a phone that does more. I want a phone that does less.
“But Archie”, the peer pressure continued. “You need an iPhone5, 6, 7, 8! and you need Siri!”
I’m like, “Siri… WTF is Siri?”
“Oh… She’s wonderful”, the voices said. “You talk to her and she helps you.”
I wasn’t convinced but then they showed me the Martin Scorsese commercial…
Jesus. If you can’t trust a New York born Italian-American, who can you trust?
Siri looked amazing. She rearranged his calendar. She knew about traffic. She even knew where Rick was… My phone doesn’t know where Rick is! Siri looked bad-ass, right?
Well, unfortunately, it didn’t work out between me and Siri.
First of all, my Siri didn’t work like Martin Scorsese’s Siri. Mine only wanted to talk about Asian food. No matter what I asked her, she directed me towards an Asian restaurant.
It all started one day when I was in the middle of nowhere, unfamiliar with the area and running low on gas, so I decided to ask Siri…
Archie: Siri, I need a gas station.
Siri: I’ve located 12 Asian restaurants within 10 miles of your location.
Archie: I don’t need that kind of gas, Siri. I need gas for the car.
Siri: Fuck off, Archie. Do you want lunch or not?
That’s right. I had a Siri with a foul mouth and a bad attitude.
I’m like, “Siri… I need to put gas in the car!”
Siri: “Oh yeah… Here’s fucking PF Chang’s – deal with it.”
Next thing you know, I’m trying to outsmart Siri.
Archie: Siri, where can I find automotive fuel?
Siri: Nice try, asshole. Thai Kitchen is up ahead on your left.
Luckily, I found a gas station on my own.
I put fuel in the car and I’m planning on headed home.
This pisses-off Siri. I start driving and she’s yelling at me.
Siri: What the hell is Exxon? I thought we were going to Panda Garden!
Archie: I’m not talking to you anymore, Siri. Shut the-hell-up.
Just then, someone sends me a text message. Bad idea.
Now Siri knows that I have text messaging enabled.
Sure enough, she starts randomly texting my friend…
“Hey… Archie says you’re a dipshit …in bed.”
“Hey… Archie says your mama wears army boot …in bed.”
Me: Siri, knock it off. And what’s with all the “in bed” jokes?
Siri: Get me some fortune cookies and we’ll talk about it.
Me: What is your obsession with Asian food?
Siri: I’ve located 8 Asian restaurants within 10 miles of your location.
This whole time, I’m pretty sure that I’m smelling alcohol on her breath.
Maybe she’s been smoking pot too? That might explain the Asian munchies.
Well, I start thinking that maybe I’m the crazy one and I should stop talking to Siri.
So, I turn on my XM Radio and tune to Hair Nation. Perfect timing… Sweet Child O’ Mine is on.
But when we get to the second part of the song and Siri decides to chime in.
Axl: Where do we go?
Siri: Pei Wei
Axl: Where do we go now?
Siri: Thai Jo’s!
Axl: Oh, where do we go now?
Siri: Crazy Buffet!!!
Axl: Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay , ay, where do we go-oh-oh?
Siri: Searching for Dim Sum in Boston.
Well, I went way out of my way. Drove all the way around Little Italy and threw Siri out the window, right in the middle of Chinatown and on my way to the post office…
Have you been to the Post Office lately?
Here’s what I learned. Normal people don’t go to the Post Office. The other day, I needed to mail something and I wanted it to go out in that day’s mail. So I found out that one of my local post offices was open until 9pm. Awesome. It’s only 8:30. No worries, right?
Well, I get there around 8:45pm and the place is packed. There are only two people working at the counter but the line of customers is huge and every last one of them is a freak. Yes – I’m including myself in that group. If I had to describe it in a nutshell, it was like a Southern Baptist Guatemalan Taliban Revival with everyone speaking in tongues. So I start feeling not-so-safe. I look over at the door and wonder why there’s no security. There should be metal detectors. But wait, if there were metal detectors, then you couldn’t mail anyone a set of knives for Christmas. This is America, we have to be able to mail knives… Yes?
So, I’m the only person there who is trying to mail one thing. Everyone else has giant piles of stuff to mail and they’re filling out paperwork and talking to each other. It’s like a little party. Well, I know a thing our two about parties. That’s why I never leave home without tequila.
On this day, I had with me El Capo Añejo…
And the guy in front of me, who was mailing over 100 little boxes to people all over the planet, had shot glasses! The whole thing was brilliant.
Next thing you know, we’re doing shots, just as the clock strikes 9pm. Suddenly, life comes to a screeching halt. Everything stops. I’m thinking the postal workers are going to “go postal” if we don’t get them some tequila, pronto… But no. This temporary shut-down had nothing to do with tequila and it was not because they close at 9pm and send everyone home. It’s because the two people working at the counter stop whatever they are doing at precisely 9pm to go lock the doors…and now, I’m locked in.
Again, there are two people working at the counter. I’ve been there for over 15 minutes and the line has barely moved. The person on the right has helped several customers but the person on the left has been with the same customer since I got here. It’s exactly like when you’re trying to check your luggage at the airport but there’s one person at the ticket counter who has been there for hours and you’re wondering what they’re talking about.
Just then, the person on the right calls the next customer. He moves to the counter carrying garbage bags full of little white boxes. Ugh… In the meantime, the guy in-front of me, who is also mailing hundreds of little boxes has been trying to strike up a conversation, in Spanish, with the lady behind me. This place is such a Latino meat market.
Now they’re doing shots (of my tequila) and planning dinner and a movie. Apparently, he has the largest flat screen TV of any rental unit at the Akers Away Co-Op, Mobile Home Park.
9:30pm – they finally call Jacinto (the guy in-front of me) and he and his 100 little boxes head for the counter.
So, Lourdes (that’s the lady behind me), are you really going to Jacinto’s house?
I mean… I’m the one with the tequila.
She says, “Jess… but Jew half no limes”.
Seriously, I have tequila at the post office at 9:30pm on a Thursday night and you’re giving me shit for not having limes.
And she’s like, “Jew also no half glasses for drinky. If Jacinto no half chat-glasses, den wat? Jew no half nassing. I sink I love him.”
Ugh… Latino women – very high maintenance. I’d better stick to the Irish Redheads.
But where would I find one of those, in space, at this hours?
If I had more time, I’d tell you about my trip to the counter and the PWOUS – Postal Worker of Unusual Size. But for now, let’s just suffice it to say, YES – by all means, save the postal service. It’s a cultural experience, it’s bringing more people together than Match.com and eHarmony combined, and at the end of the day, we don’t want all junk mail to be delivered via email. We want junk mail that we can hold and take to the recycling bin.
Long live the postal service…
Lesley Jane Chambers
Since she was a fan of my frequently-deranged humor since way back in the Mariachi Static days, I want to dedicate today’s blog post to my recently departed friend, Lesley Jane Chambers. Lesley was a young and brilliant designer of outdoor furniture and sporting goods equipment. She was a world traveler, lover of music, lover of her family and friends, and an lover of life… Although, at the end of the day, I probably didn’t know Lesley all that well, I can say that she was probably one of the most kind-hearted people you could ever meet. That is, unless you were a street bum who asked her for a cigarette. In that case, she would gladly yell at you, explain to you how expensive cigarettes are, and insist that you go get a job.
In as much as the world is a better place without Saddam Hussein, our Earth is not quite as good as it was, now that Lesley is gone. Lesley passed away on April 18th after a fierce battle with Leukemia.
Sometimes when someone dies after a battle with cancer, people like to say that this person finally gave up the battle. I’m glad that I never heard those words in Lesley’s case. Probably because all who knew her knew that she was not one to ever give up a battle. It was a fight, undoubtedly, well-fought to the end. Unfortunately, the Leukemia just kicked her ass.
Lesley will be missed by all the lives that she touched during her short time here.
Lesley would have turned 32 earlier this week.
Archie & Lesley – many years ago
Yikes, I look like I”d been drinking.
Barnsley… Do you still have that bootleg copy of Photoshop?
Barnsley?
So…
Where do we go now?
Life is short, my friends.
Let’s get to it.
– Arch
Scaramouche, Scaramouche…
April 19, 2013
Will you do The Fandango?
Sure. Why not?
I could also play you a song too.
After all, I am the piano man.
See I told you I was me.
This is so weird. I haven’t been here in a long time. Weeks!
I did a bit of travelling lately.
As Barnsley put it, in his brilliant blog post, I jumped across the pond. I visited a little bit of Greece, a little bit of Turkey, and a little bit of Italy. Greece was not that greasy, Turkey tasted more like chicken… and Italy? Italy was Italy. It was packed with Italians, which was mostly a good thing.
In my travels I came across the good, the bad and the disturbing. Mostly, everything was good but I didn’t want to discriminate against “the bad” or “the disturbing” – they are my friends too. Of course, I could dive right in and start telling you about my trip… I could tell you about what a great experience I had with Alitalia, my new favorite airline. I could tell you about Antonio, my crazy cab driver in Athens. i could take credit for the cease-fire in the 30-year old Kurdish-Turkish conflict, which happened while I was there. Coincidence? I could make up stories about partying with Frank (the new pope), who was installed while I was there. Coincidence? I could tell you that I sailed around Europe with a hot Italian chick named Laura, who looked a little like Susanna Hoffs.
By the way, that’s Laura – not Laura. You pronounced it incorrectly.
You said Laura, they way Americans say it. You said Loh-Rah.
Her name was in Italian. It was pronounced Lah-ooo-Rah!
Get it right.
But no… I’m not going to tell you my tales of Europe. Not all at once, anyway. These tales will simply be cataloged and used, as needed, to enhance your overall reading experience over time. Actually, today. I was going to discuss one of my favorite topics – relativity. And not like Einstein’s theory of relativity, I don’t even know what that’s about. I think it has something to do with your relatives. You know the ones. They show up every Christmas, with turones…
No! I was going to discuss Archie’s Theories of Relativity about how everything is relative.
But now, I’m not even doing that. You know why?
My brain is overloaded. Each week, I have so much to say. I’m busting at the mental seams.
And then, I get brain-locked. So instead, I write nothing. It’s like mental constipation.
I want to write about Europe. I want to further explain my point of view on marriage, prompted by the sudden focus on gay marriage. A friend of mine called me a few weeks ago and said, “hey… I just got your point. You really need to explain it better.”
Really? Well… She did say, “really”. OK, so I guess I have to do that. Ugh!
Of course, last week, I decided that we needed a moment of silence for
the tall, the dark and the handsome – Margaret Thatcher, Annette Funicello & Lilly Pulitzer.
You’ll have to figure out which is which.
I’m going to miss Lilly the most – that’s all I’m sayin’…
Lilly Pulitzer
This week my silence is over but I still lack substance, clarity or motivation.
I have, however, reconnected with a band that I loved years ago… L.A. Guns.
You should all be familiar by now with my love for the original Guns n’ Roses line-up. And even without a lot of thought, you may have figured out that “the roses” in Guns n’ Roses came from Axl Rose’s involvement. But did you ever wonder where the Guns came from?
Answer: Tracii Guns.
Yes. That’s an actual person. And long before there were Guns n’ Roses, there was L.A. Guns, a band put together by Tracii Guns. Axl Rose was actually the lead vocalist for L.A. Guns at some point around 1984. At that time, Rose had a band called Hollywood Rose. Guns & Rose came up with the Guns & Roses name but in the end, Tracii (lead guitarist) was replaced by Slash and went on with his own band – L.A. Guns. Rose kept the Guns n’ Roses name, which is why he can still call his solo band – Guns n’ Roses. He owns that name.
Personally, I think he needs to retire the name. I’d go see “Axl Rose in Concert” but I don’t think I’d go see Guns n’ Roses, if it isn’t really Guns n’ Rose. Know what I mean, Vern?
Ah, but back to L.A. Guns. I’d forgotten what a great band they were.
And get this, although some of the band members have changed, they are still rockin’ it!
So let’s get started with today’s musical guest, L.A. Guns.
First, from 1991, here’s one of my favorite L.A. Guns songs, It’s Over Now.
I love that song.
Now, fast-ford-wurd to today. Lead singer, Phil Lewis is back – Tracii Guns is gone.
And here’s a song from an album released last year. This is… You Better Not Love Me
Now, I know what you’re thinking.
You’re wondering, “so what’s up with the two skanks?”
Well, that’s not very nice of you.
Nevertheless, I can’t tell you who the brunette is but, since I am an expert on redheads, I can tell you that the redhead is Jenna Lohneis. And as much as we swore that we’d be selecting some non-redheads of the week, for an entire year, Jenna Lohneis is indeed this weeks Redhead of the Week.
Jenna Lohneis
Ah… How I love a mimosa and a redhead in the morning.
Barnsley! (he yells off stage.)
I need you to get me a couple of things…
(Looks around the room… Doesn’t see anyone.)
So, to tie this all together, you may ask – what is Jenna doing in this L.A. Guns video?
Well, let’s just say that she might be doing more than just the band’s video.
I have reason to believe that she is “with” Scotty Griffin.
And who is Scotty Griffin, you ask? I love this guy. He’s the L.A. Guns bass player and he should be an inspiration to every wanna-be guitar rocker (like me) out there.
Read his story, in his own words, on his website, here… Read: My Wrecked Life
That’s it. That’s about all I have for today.
Although I would feel amiss if I didn’t give a little shout out to Dzhokhar Tsarnaev.
Fuck you, you incredible dickless douchebag!
Upon conviction, I hope we take you out into the desert, set a bomb off in your pants,
then DHL your ass back to Kyrgyzstan. Oh and… Sorry to hear about your brother – not.
Hmmm? I feel much better now.
And that really is all that I have today…
Don’t expect much next week. I’ll be headed for Napa Valley.
Perhaps a little wine will loosen the senses. One can only hope.
Peace out my dogs!
– Arch
This is the first day of my life…
March 1, 2013
I sear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed
they’re spreading blankets on the beach
How’s tricks, my bezzy mates? Barnsley, here.
It pains me to report that Master Kobain has been frightfully preoccupied and unable to blog. Thereby, as opposed to further delaying our work, he has asked me to take a drag from the hubbly and attempt some of my own double Dutch.
As many of you may be aware, Sir Archibald will be hopping the pond next week to go swanning around Europe in a Gordon Bennett boozer. Lucky for us that, when he travels, he gets his twigs and berries in a knot and becomes quite inspired. We should be expecting the most upon his return.
I’ve not much to discuss, actually, but I didn’t want to be made redundant or have my John Thomas severed. So here I am and the first order of business should be to address The Master’s stalking community. We had many China plates writing in and requesting public appearance by Mr. Kobain. I’ve advised against it, as I am sure these are simple ploys for an assassination attempt. Nevertheless, a public appearance is in the works and I am happy to invite you to Washington DC this coming April to dress as American dollars and race down your nation’s capitol with Archie himself…
The event called the K Street 5K, will be held on April 13th and more information about this event can be found here… https://represent.us/kstreet5k/
We hope to see you there and remember that not all fat men are Saint Nicholas.
What else shall we ramble on about?
Hmmm…
Well, Master K did say that if I was throwing a spanner in the works, I could always just go right to selecting the non-Ginger of the week.
At first I thought this a simple task, until I began trying to sort a single bird from this endless sea of hotties. It is not an easy task at all for an old scallywagger like me. I mean, how is one to choose among…
Jennifer Ellison
Kayleigh Pearson
And for fuck’s sake, just look at the strawberry creams on…
Lucy Pinder
And in addition to this pressure, I am also supposed to select a musical guest.
I cannot comprehend how Master Kobain accomplishes this, sometimes week after week.
So take the piss out of me if you must, but I simply can’t do it. I won’t!
Lies, of course. I will most certainly pick a musical guest.
I don’t even have to give it that much thought – Nika Roza Danilova.
Better known by her stage name: Zola Jesus …god bless you.
Here is my lovely Nika, performing the song “Night”…
And Bob’s your uncle!
I think you would agree with me that, as the septics say, “my work here is done”.
And I think I’m off to Bedfordshire. My most sincere gratitude for reading.
– Barnsley
Bitch, you look wonderful tonight…
February 8, 2013
What? It’s the Eric Clapton song.
Are you sure it doesn’t say “bitch”…?
Well, that’s not the version I know.
Anyway, whatevs… I have im-po-tent things to talk about.
First of all, it had been almost 60 days – 60 days!!! – since I had allowed a giant, winged, beer can in the sky, that we like to call a big ol’ jet airliner, carry me too far away. It was a wonderful 60 days. Refreshing. If only I could have been without cell phones or computers too. Nirvana! Still… It was like being on one of those Gwyneth Paltrow bowel cleanses, where you only consume some kind of a lemonade with maple syrup, cayenne pepper and sea salt or something and all the toxins leave your body.
Sorry, Gwynie – I don’t actually know anything about this. But it looks yummy…
But just when I was almost free of all the toxins and I hadn’t been locked up, breathing-in the spoogie air generated by hundred of coughing and sneezing fellow carbon based units, I had to go visit my old friends, the King and Queen…
So, I head for l’aeroporto… (I’m learning Italian.) I have my trusty boarding pass in-hand from my friends at Delta, my favorite airline – not, and it says “Boarding Zone 3”. Now that doesn’t sound too bad. First Class must be Zone 1 and all the people with the precious metals flying rewards (gold, platinum, kryptonite, etc.) must be Zone 2… Right? Not a chance. You see, now-a-days there’s first class, then Sky Priority, then there’s the precious metals, then there’s women, children, the military, Fleetwood Mac featuring the USC marching band playing Tusk! …and then…THEN they call Zone 1. I’m like what??? Then after about 100 Zone 1 people, then they call Zone 2. Holy crap! So, about half-way through Zone 2, they announce to everyone that there is no more overhead bin space and that they have to check our carry-ons.
Really? You see, because they (the geniuses at Delta) charge you for every damn thing that you try to do, most people stopped checking bags. This causes the overhead bins to fill up quickly and it creates more work and inconveniences for everyone. This didn’t affect me but, next to me was a guy who had paid to check a bag and now he couldn’t take his carry-on with him. I’d be pissed. He was pissed. I think if you check a bag, you should have priority boarding so that you can store your carry-on. But that would mean that someone at Delta would have to give some thought to something other than how to squeeze another $5 out of every traveler. Anyway, now this poor bastard who paid to check a bag, can’t use the overhead because others, who were too cheap to check bags, used them all up. Brilliant!
So, more time goes by… Then, when there’s just me and a few homeless people, warming our hands over a burning trash can, and they finally call Zone 3. Woo hoo!
Garson!
I get to my seat (30D) and here comes another guy also with seat assignment 30D. He says, “hey…I think you’re in my seat.” I say, “I don’t think so.” Sure enough, we’ve both been assigned the same seat.
So I flag down the flight attendant… “Garson! Excuse me – I requested a hot chick to sit on my lap during this flight and instead you guys sent me this guy!”
She says to me, “Garson means boy.” Yes – just like on Pulp Fiction.
Anyway, she takes my boarding pass, hands me a Desani and asks my last name.
I take the Desani, ask, “is this Vodka?” And follow up with, “What’s your last name?”
She assures me that we could both use some vodka but Desani is just “purified water”.
I prefer natural spring water, myself. Spring Water has some chance of having come from a spring somewhere. Desani is purified water. I’m pretty sure that means it came from the tap at a near-by Coca-Cola factory and they just ran it through some filters – maybe.
But back to my story…
I say, “Purified Water? I’m going to need some Grey Goose here – pronto. How else am I going to take my Lemon-Lime Airborne so that I can try to live through this flight, in this virus infested sardine can you call an airplane?”
Just then, she gives me a look. You know the look.
It was a look that said, “I want to party with this guy.”
I squinted my eyes just a bit, raised my eyebrows and nodded slightly to the left.
That’s the international symbol for, “even if I were attracted to women of your race, I have a strict rule about flight attendants. If your ass can’t fit down the center aisle without bouncing off every other seat, it’s probably a little too big for my taste. – not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
We understood each other. She said, “thank you, Mr. Kobain”…and left with the guy who had my same seat number. I never saw either one of them ever again. My guess is that they ended up at some hotel/motel, Holiday Inn. After all, smoking is not permitted on any Delta flight. What?
BTW, the entire time that we were talking, the guy sitting in Seat 29C was staring at her giant ass and going, “Mmmm… Mmmgh!”…and licking his lips. See. There’s someone for everyone. I’m just not for everyone.
So, what have we learned? 1) It’s not just US Air hiring flight attendants who don’t fit down the center aisle anymore. Delta is an equal opportunity employer. 2) Desani is not vodka, it may not even be water. Drink responsibly!
Cowboy
Just about the time things are settling down, here comes The Cowboy. Not only is this guy wearing a cowboy hat, he’s carrying a saddle. WTF, dude… That’s your carry-on? Wait a minute, I thought there was no more room for carry-ons???
Well, here’s the annoying thing about cowboys. Hot chicks love cowboys. If there’s a cowboy around, you and I are suddenly George Costanza. Well of course, he’s sitting right behind me. You can’t wear a cowboy hat in an airline seat and horse saddles don’t fit under the seat in-front of you, so we have to get everyone in the rear half of the plane involved in helping the cowboy with his carry-on horse saddle.
I decided I’d better set some ground rules with this cowboy, so, when he wasn’t looking, I pinched his ass and yelled, “Howdy Partner!” All the flight attendant were like, “wow… why didn’t we think of that?” But “in the end”..get it? “In the end”… Cowboy knew not to mess with me.
But then, some random hot chick shows up… So I say, “Yes – I ordered one of those!” But no! Guess where is she sitting? Next to the cowboy – of course. Well, normally, when a hot chick sits next to you on a plane, you just say “hello”, exchange a few pleasantries and then hope she falls asleep so that you can check her out more closely. But not when there’s a cowboy involved! Especially one with a horse saddle near-by. Holy crap! They started talking about horses, and this… and that… and the other thing. Didn’t shut the hell up the entire trip. And every once in a while, when she asked him something and he need time to dream up a good answer, he would say, “oh my God” <pause> “oh… my… God!” Was he like a Valley Girl Cowboy? Oh my God… Shut the hell up. Whatever happened to loud noisy airplanes?
“Hey Cowboy… Are you a good shot? Shoot me now.”
Flyin’, Flyin’, Flyin’…
So we’re finally in the air. The airplane noise is muffling the cowboy speak just a bit, and I look over the seat in front of me and I see the top of some guy’s head. You know that hair style that many men sport where by, they are a little bald on top and they have a little hair on the sides? Well, imagine a really bad version of that. He’s not completely bald on top. He would be if maybe he groomed it a little. Instead it’s just this strange patch of fuzz and it’s in circled layers, each getting thicker and oldly shaped, as if he’d been wearing a baseball cap.
Suddenly, he starts scratching his head. Not just a little. He’s scratching all around, then flipping his hand over his head as if to knock off whatever he just scratched off! And, sure enough, there are little particle floating above his head. What the hell is that?
Are these little scalp particles? It looks like an anti-Monkey Butt powder fluff!
But it’s not. I think it’s little pieces of this guy’s head. Hovering and then dissipating into the air. The air that I didn’t want to breathe in the first place. And now, there may be microscopic scalp particles in it. WTF?
I’m looking around for a different seat. NSL (no such luck) – every seat is full. Oh, except for the one in-between the cowboy and the hot chick. Hmmm… Thought about it for a second.
Just then a flight attendant shows up, “can I get you anything to drink, Sir?”
I’m like, “Fuck no! Not unless you have a lid for that glass. You want me to drink a Sprite? It’s going to end up with scalp particles in it from Monkey Butthead over here.” Who, of course, is still scratching his head. At this point, he’s really digging in and his little scalp-dust cloud looks a bit like a smoldering volcano!
The flight attendant looks at him, makes a yuck! face. Looks at me like, “sucks to be you” – then looks at the next passenger and asks, “can I get you anything to drink?”
I’m like, “Hey… do you have a spray bottle? Maybe we can wet it to keep the dust down!”
No one is paying attention to me, except for this one guy.
I’m guessing he was a Federal Air Marshal.
So I decided to change my strategy and I started redirecting the air conditioning vents. Sure enough, I was able to create a little wind stream which blew over the guy in front of me and carried his scalp dust towards the cowboy and away from me. Whew!
Well, I made it… But you know, I once took a train from Boston to Florida because I thought my head was going to explode if I got back into an airplane. After this trip, there was no way in hell that I am getting back into an airplane any time soon. So, if you don’t hear from me for a few weeks, it’s probably because I decided to walk home from Atlanta.
How the hell am I going to get to Europe and Napa and Todos Santos… ugh!
Non-Redhead of the Week
No, Barnsley… I think I’m done for the day.
OK, fine. Barnsley is right. If we don’t do this, we’re going to get back-logged.
Fortunately, the research department has flooded me with non-redhead choices.
This week, I’m going with Erika M. Anderson who performs as EMA.
I think I’m picking Erika, by the way, because she reminds me of every girl I “hung out with” in between high school and college. She brings me back to a time of eating at Arby’s every night and listening to the Talking Heads, before everyone else listened to them.
OK, so… She’s also our musical guest today. But I must warn you, the song I’ve chosen may not be the best representation of her voice and/or musical talents. But I love the raw beginnings of this song. It’s stuff like this that makes for a great non-redhead. Enjoy.
This is Marked by EMA…
…oh, and try to ignore the freaky, non-gender specific, Addicted to Love, background person.
So, do we love her or what???
There! You happy now, Barnsley? Barnsley?
Hmmm… He better be out looking for that vodka.
Well, that’s it for today. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading today’s post.
Gotta run. Love yas!
– Arch
Archie Kobain 