All the dykes with the hookah pipes say…
July 15, 2011
Ay oh,
whey oh,
ay aaay oh,
whey oh…
Greetings and salutaions on this fine Friday.
I need a b**ch with the right amount of skank,
score me an 8-ball and help me turn crank
Note: Stonsey is the black guy. I’m Eminem.
Before going any further, I think we have to handle some “viewer mail”…
Viewer Mail
Dear Archie,
Your blog speaks to me.
No. It really doesn’t. Don’t forget my usual disclaimer. This isn’t about you, me, us, the dog, or the cat (who knew how to play fetch). I’m not speaking to you, about you, or at you. I’m just rambling. Don’t try this at home. Your results may vary.
Dear Archie,
You are so random.
No. Nothing on this show here happens by accident. We have a whole team of people working on make-up, special effect, and the research department. Oh, plese don’t forget the research department. I may be the most delibarate person you’ve never met.(..or a compulsive liar).
Hey stranger…
I find your Archie Kobain blogs very “interesting”??
What are you doing later? Come to Tortola, immediately.
Rock on Archie Weather dude.
Aloha, Spicoli.
OK. That should be enough for now.
Let’s break for this questionable Sweedish remake of a classic Slade song…
Yikes!
If we’re going to destroy a song, I can do it myself on my new Canjo…
You know what I want to talk about? The relativity of money.
I don’t think I want to talk about it today. I need time to compose a nice article.
Maybe in two weeks. In the meantime, if you have $1500 that you can afford to lose…
Now I’ll send you all this message in code,
underground, over mountains,
through forests and deserts and cities.
Buy: SNDXF
So… Guess how many Irish redheads contacted me after last week’s blog entry?
No…seriously, guess? Where’s Barnsley, he’ll guess? Oh, no wait. He already knows.
He was on phone duty. OK, you guess???
I can tell, you’re afraid to guess too low. That won’t be an issue.
Well, I quote Graham Parker…
Fumble with the money and fumble with the keys,
Somebody has to end up on his knees.
Go to a funeral dressed in pink,
Stop to love and not stop to think.
Big Fat Zero
Big Fat Zero
Big Fat Zero
That’s right, Big Fat Zero.
Although there were reports of higher-than-normal inquiries from women asking about Addict by Dior at perfume counters worldwide. You know you did. You know who you are…
Lady Gaga… Stop stalking me.
I guess I have no choice. I have to return to Paris.
[Barnsley: Shall I ready the plane to France, captain?]
What? France? What are you talking about?
I’m talking about Paris Whitney Hilton or, as her friends refer to her, Paris Hilton.
I really don’t care about her celebrity status or Grandpa Hilton’s pile of hotel brands that try to nickle and dime you for every last thing that happens within their walls, so that the family can finance another reality show. The truth is, I just genuinely like her. I think she’s a sweetheart…and smart. I must admit, at first, I missed the old Paris… You know, the one who was always causing a stir. One day there’s a tape released (which I never cared to see) of Paris with a jerk-off ex-boyfriend during private moments, then she’s doing a goofy reality show with friend, Nicole Richie, then she’s getting arrested for DUI, speeding through Los Angeles in the dark, with her headlights off on a suspended driver’s license. Then there were some drug charges. Whatever! I thought she was great. Seriously… I’m not being sarcarstic. She was just another adolescent with a higher budget than most.
Let’s face it, if anyone of us, at that age, could have mustered up enough recognition to have Japanese authorities ban us from entering their country, we would have done it.
Anyway, I’m getting used to the new Paris. She’s a little calmer, a little less the party girl, but still having fun and doing what she does best… Just being Paris. I can picture it…
Paris & Archie - Not a Real Photo
Note: That is not a real photo. I’m just goofin’ with you, Paris.
I have a feeling that she’s still going to sue me claiming, “I would never been seen with someone wearing that shirt”. I know. I’m Sorry… It’s one of my cheap Brooks Brother’s shirts. I keep my Eton shirts in Aspen.
So, anyway…
I caught one episode of her new show, The World According to Paris.
Paris was Paris… (Love ya, babe. Call me.)
But I had no idea that Brooke Mueller was, like, her co-star. Seriously? What a train wreck she is. Do we all know who she is? The now ex-wife of Charlie Sheen. Mother of Bobma & Maxma?
Note: The media seems to refer to Sheen’s kids as Bob & Max. But around Palm Beach, way back around their birth, the story was that Charlie has insisted on naming them Bobma & Maxma. Get it? Their names would be pronounced Bob Machine and Max Machine. I guess we’ll need to check their IDs.
Anyway, I’m not going to pick on Brooke. I know she’s your friend, Par. But I just gotta say, I think if Moira Fiore was my mom, I’d probably be a train wreck too. Anyway, Brooke, good luck with the latest round of rehab…
I could quote some Amy Winehouse lyrics right here.
Too obvious.
What else should we talk about today?
We could talk about the dead… Clarence Clemons (69) , the Space Shuttle Program (30), Caylee Anthony (2), Peter Falk (83)… Larry “Wildman” Fischer (66)!
We’ll miss you, Larry.
And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others,
This song is for you my brother
This is going to require a little Tinto de Verano.
Tinto de Verano, which means Red Wine of Summer, is a wine-based cold drink similar to sangria and is very popular in Spain. READ all about it.
Barnsley… Bring on the Gaseosa!
But NO, we’re not going to talk about dead people.
We’re going to talk about living. Living Large! Prepare to be jeleaous.
Guess where I am, right now?
I’m on my way to Mexico. Right Now!
Unless of course, you aren’t reading this right now, in which case I may already be in Mexico or I may be back or I may be somewhere else. Again, this is the reason why we have time. Without time, everything would happen right now. Then our problem would be space. You see, if everything happened right now, then you’d be everywhere you’ve ever been and everywhere you’ll ever go right now! The problem is that, so would everyone else. Of course, two people can’t occupy the same space simultaneously. That’s why we have time. Because two people can occupy the same space, as long as they are there at different times. Got it?
So, was (or am) I? Oh, yeah… Mexico!
I’m on my way there, as I am writing this…
Headed to Baja Califonia Sur (BCS) con tres de mis compadres, a pasar dos dias en Todos Santos y, despues, tres dias en Cabo San Lucas. Check out the totally sick place where we’re staying in Todos Santos…
We rented out the whole place, on the beach, for two nights. We’re just a couple miles outside of Todos Santos. One of those places where I’ve never been, but I’ve been told that if I ever go there, I’ll want to stay. I hope they have Internet access or this might be my last blog entry…ever!
Todos Santos is supposedly quite a surfer destination. Other than that, it’s a little beach town filled with equal amounts bars and churches. Personally, I can’t wait to check out the iconic Hotel California. The real one. The one where The Eagles used to hang out and their song was named after.
Of course, some say that…
A man in town claims to have started the rumor that became legend, in the early 80’s – and for purely selfish reasons. He says the town was so unknown, so lacking in tourists or business that he felt compelled to do something to stir things up. He was in the real estate business and there weren’t any buyers around to sell to. So he says he dreamed the “Eagles” thing up right out of thin air. There weren’t many takers for an urban legend either, but by the time the hotel was open again as Hotel California in the late 80’s, the legend had begun to grow. The story was told to anyone who would listen that this indeed was the HOTEL CALIFORNIA. That the Eagles had stayed there. That Don Henley had written the song right here, while renting a room for $2/night, sleeping in a hammock. And to further the effect, the song played over the barroom stereo into the streets. Why it had to be true, didn’t it?
I don’t care. I say it’s the real Hotel California.
Of course, if it isn’t, maybe they’ll sell it to me for less.
But really, who could argue that this isn’t the real Hotel California.
I’ve only been here a few hours and already my head is growing heavy and my sight is growing dim. I can sense the warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air…and there goes the mission bell. This is…such a lovely place. I want it. And to further prove my point, one of my friends just commented, “this could be heaven or this could be hell”.
Speaking of buying real estate in BCS, I’m planning to look at this place while I’m out here…
I love it. I want it. I needs me some property in BCS.
So, I’m keeping it short today. I need to spend maximum time en la playa, con cervezas, tequila y unos puros. See you on the flip-side. That is… If I decide to ever leave Todos Santos.
Just send my mail to The Rosarito Beach Cafe
OK, really, Igotta run.
There’s a dance in the courtyard.
<smootchie bootchies>
– Arch
Every week should have a Thursday…
July 8, 2011
So, I did a little time traveling last week.
Went back to July 21st, 1944 to see the U.S. recapturing Guam from the Japanese. I wanted to get as few photos in time for Liberation Day. On my way back I overshot 2011 and ended up somewhere in the future.
A time to be born, a time to die,
a time to plant, a time to reap,
a time to kill, a time to heal,
a time to laugh, a time to weep…To everything…there is a season
and a time for every purpose, under Heaven.
You know what’s funny? In the future, almost all airlines have gone out of business and the whole thing has been taken over by a joint venture between FedEx and UPS. It’s called Fed Up Airlines and their motto is…
“We’ve been delivering packages for years. How hard can this be?”
Now typically, time travel is illegal. That’s why most people don’t know that we can do it. Well, it’s not illegal now. It’s illegal in the future…but they made the law retroactive to now. Never mind. It’s complicated. What’s cool is that it’s only illegal for people to time travel. It’s OK to send inanimate objects back as far as 24 hours. So, in the future, in the package delivery business, you can send stuff Next Day, Same Day or (for an extra fee) Yesterday.
Here’s the funny thing about Fed Up Airlines… They still have SkyMall. And if you see something you really like and maybe needed for the trip that you’re on, you can order it and get it back before you left. Stuff just shows up at your house, and it has a note from you, in the future, “Take this with you”.
Think of the problems this creates for credit card fraud. You get stuff today, you’re credit card isn’t getting hit until you’ve ordered it tomorrow. Of course, you can’t return it today because, technically, you haven’t bought it yet, but people try all the time.
So there I am time traveling back from Guam, reading SkyMall, and I see this ad.
Maybe it's time to outsource... your dating life.
This is brilliant. Of course, this was a silly ad for some dating services and they really just want you to outsource the procurement of dates. But I know a thing or two about outsourcing, and while their service might be a spin on just another dating service, what they said was brilliant. We’ll talk about dating services later. Right now, let’s focus on outsource your dating life!
Let’s think about this. When you outsource, you get others to perform the functions that you might typically need to perform “in house”. The benefits of outsourcing include: cost savings, access to expert talent, capacity and scalability, geographical diversity, reduced time to market, shift of responsibilities, shift of risk, shift of liability. Are you with me so far?
Now you could be married or single, gay or straight, a skinny bee-ach, or a single seatbelt challenged individual and you could still have a great dating life by outsourcing the whole thing to someone else, maybe to someone in India.
I’ve embraced this (and you should too). Now when I meet a lady, I give her my card. Naturally, she calls me within a few hours. The number is answered, “hello…this is Archie”, by a guy named Amalendu in Maharashtra, a suburb just West of Mumbai. He then coordinates with the rest of my dating staff, located all over the planet. But I never even have to meet anyone. It’s all outsourced. I have an entire team dedicated to recruiting. All information related to who I am dating, what we did on our dates, and any intimate details are documented and uploaded to a web-based portal, where I can log in and monitor my progress… and I never need to leave my living room.
Just last night I went on date with a girl with hairy armpits named Chantal in Rouen, a rich old lady named Bernice in Santa Marguerita, and a guy named Kevin from Santa Monica who was visiting Jakarta on business. Kevin was just a one night stand, so I’m deleting him from the portal.
Celebrity dating is no problem. (Young hunk) Archie from Malibu will be taking out Ashley Tisdale next week, while another (less fortunate) Archie is checking into Amy Winehouse for me… but she has some kind of a Tony Bennett thing going on.
By the way, am I the only person who liked Ashley’s original nose better?
So, at the risk of giving away my giant money making idea…
Have you seen this dating service called, It’s Just Lunch…? Who signs up for this stuff. First of all, I get that lunch is supposed to be less intimidating but it’s also the most inconvenient time of day, with the maximum possibility for interruptions, and…maybe that’s what you want.
I think it’s a way stupid idea. I don’t want to have lunch with anyone. And when was the last time that you met someone of the opposite sex and thought, “hey… I’d really like to have lunch with that person”. Let’s face it, lunch is completely the wrong approach. I, of course, have a brilliant idea. My dating service will be called, Give it a Shot! This ain’t lunch baby… Give it a Shot!, the dating service for alcohol enthusiasts, recommends that you meet and immediately order shots… Tequila? Jagermeister? Irish Car Bomb? Oh yeah, baby… Now we’re taking. That date of yours is looking better already, isn’t she?
Brilliant. I know.
(Did that Space Shuttle go off yet?)
Well, I gotta run.
Am I late for a very importnat date? Not really.
I don’t actually have my own dating service nor am I outsourcing anything.
So you can wipe off that grin
I know where you’ve been
It’s all been a pack of lies
At the end of the day, Archie is still holding out for a cute Irish redhead wearing jeans, a tank top, and Addict by Dior. She’s got an unsweetened iced green tea from Starbuck’s in one hand and an iPod in the other, listening to Memory Motel by The Stones. She’s probably never been to an auto parts store but when she takes the Benz for a ride, news reporters on the side of the road point to her as an example of a bad driver. I have very specific tastes.
At Citi Bank we will meet accidently
We’ll start to talk when she borrows my pen
Oh, yeah… And she needs to have just the right amount of skank.
I should write a song… Eminem style. The big question is, who is the black guy?
Now I really gotta run…
Lova yas
– Arch
Will it burn like a mole on fire…
July 1, 2011
Good morning, Tortola…
It’s me, Weather (the blogger formerly known as Archie Kobain), coming to you
live from somewhere near Sebastian’s Beach Resort at Apple Bay.
[Theme song, playing in background:]
The weather is here, I wish you were beautiful.
My thoughts aren’t too clear, but don’t run away.
(Don’t worry.. I’ll explain later.)
The phone lines are open. Call me.
Tell me what we should talk about before I just start rambling.
Barnsley is standing by his cell phone at the pullout.
(Colors? I didn’t know we could do colors.)
So, I don’t know how exciting this is but, I feel like I need to recap the month.
June was quite busy. It’s crazy that it’s already July 1st…
June 2nd
Just the other day, or maybe that was almost a month ago, I attended a Mets game and they won. They tell me this was an unusual occurrence. Obviously, I don’t follow baseball very closely. I know there are teams, they play and eventually someone wins the Super-Series-World-Bowl-Thingy. Anyway, I’d tell you all about the game but, apparently, Major League Baseball owns the rights to any description of what went on during the game. I doubt that’s 100% enforceable.
I, of course, am willing defy the authority of The MLB and give you my version of the play-by-play, just don’t quote me… Uh… There were some guys dressed like baseball players and they threw some balls. Upon close inspection, the balls appearred to consists of a round cushioned cork center, wrapped tightly in windings of wool and polyester/cotton yarn, and covered by stitched cowhide. Some players waved bats at the balls. Others actually struck the balls with bats, probably in self-defense. Whenever they hit one of these balls, they went running running off, as if to distance themselves from the impact site. This was particularly exciting to many. Fans cheered, others mainly drank beer and enjoyed hanging out with fellow alcohol enthusiasts. Like most baseball games, it was 15 minutes of excitement crammed into four hours.
On the up-side, we were at the Modell’s Clubhouse.
One guy was amazed at how close we were to the field. He said, “if you got this close to the field at Yankee Stadium, you’d be arrested”.
Upon arrival, it was suggested that I immediately have a beverage made from barley, water, hops & yeast. I was one of the people who took this advice to heart. Again, I don’t know a lot about baseball, so I did whatever others suggested.
Drink a beer? Yes, sir.
Have a stadium dog? OK.
It was good to see my NYC friends (Brian & Jay).
It was good to catch up to my old compadres…
- Sammy “Tinto de Verano” (center)
You know, when someone aims a camera at you these days, your first thought should be, “is there a chance that this will end up on the Internet?” Of course, there’s always a chance that a photo will end up on the Internet. This might lead to you never being in a photograph again. I understand. This is probably what Gale is thinking right now…
- Weather & Gale
Is that a Mets shirt? Maybe she knows something about this game? Maybe she can teach me about baseball??? Oh, no… wait. I shouldn’t take on too much at once. I still need swimming lessons. I’ll get to baseball later. Baby steps! Barnsley… Can you call Gale and ask her if she’s ever given swimming lessons?
[Looks around.] Barnsley?
How many times have the weathermen
told you stories that made you laugh?
You know its not unlike the politicians and the leaders,
when they do things by halves.
All in all, I think our little party of about 70 guests was a huge success.
Did I mention the Mets won?
After the game, we over extended our license to be cool and headed somewhere too hip for a lowly sailor from the BVI, 230 FIFTH Rooftop Garden Bar and Restaurant in Manhattan.
230 FIFTH
It had an unparalleled, spectacular view of the Empire State Building. I could have just sat there for hours, sipping cocktails and staring at it… and maybe that’s what I did. The details are getting a little foggy at this point. In any case, I’m glad I didn’t see the bar tab for that place. Oh, I’m sure they brought us one.
I just refused to look at it. Thanks, Diane. Thanks, Dave.
You guys did pay, right? I hope someone paid. I’m headed back there in August. I’d hate to find my picture on a wanted poster by the door. Where’s Barnsley?
[Yelling off stage:]
Barnsley… Can you make sure someone picked up the tab at 230 Fifth?
June 9th
June 9th kicked off Bonnaroo X. The 10th annual Bonnaroo Music Festival in Manchester, TN and my fourth year, in a row, in attendance. It was a good time as always but… In 2008 and 2009, I really enjoyed the line-up. In 2010 and 2011, I was able to pick out some good music but I can’t say that the lineup was all that exciting. The bottom line is that, unlike years past, I’m not getting in on the early-bird ticket sales for 2012. Before I commit, I want to see the lineup. Maybe we’ll give something different a shot?
This doesn’t mean that I won’t be back to Bonnaroo. I love The Roo. I’m just thinking it might be time to see what else is going on out there. Plan for my life when I just travel from music festival to music festival in my VW bus.
I may have previously mentioned that I did see some great acts there. I was particularly impressed by Grace Potter and The Nocturnals. Awesome show. By the way, to all my Colorado friends, they are performing FOR FREE at Howelsen Hill in Steamboat Springs on July 14th. Be there!
I also enjoyed Band of Skulls… and Florence and The Machine, who I also saw again two nights ago (more on that later).
At Bonnaroo, I only caught a glimpse of Greensky Bluegrass. I had a feeling that I would really like them and wanted to hear more but I was running behind. “I’m late. I’m late… for a very important date.” Fortunately, we were brought together again, a few days later, by fate… (more on that later, too).
On the final day of Roo, I decided to get off the beaten path and out of the sweltering Tennessee heat by visiting Cafe Where?, the small venue located on the outskirts of the giant What Stage grasslands. It’s usually a good place to catch some of the lesser-known acoustic acts or hometown party bands. It was here that I came across, singer / songwriter, Lauren Shera…
Lauren Shera
She probably wasn’t for all of my BonnaBros. I know Hoser took a little snooze during her set, but I thought she was awesome. If you know me, you know that I like me some female folksy music. So, trust me. Go here (see below) and get a free download of her song, Endless Sea.
http://laurenshera.com/download/
After her performance at Bonnaroo, Lauren invited me… OK, fine, she invited everyone… to come see her in Atlanta a few days later. Hmmm? I was going to be in Atlanta on that same day and staying only a few miles away.
OK, maybe I’ll see you there?
My new girlfriend thinks I’m a stalker.
Well, actually, she’s not my girfriend. Yet.
Bottom line? I think the BonnaBros are taking a BonnaBreak.
- Weather, Stonsey, Kenny G-Spot
Not Pictured: Hoser & Choly
Where are Hoser & Choly?
- Hoser & Choly @ Fashion Show
Really?
Do you know the worse part of going to a fashion show at Bonnaroo?
Having to tell your parents that you’re gay.
Speaking of Bonnaroo, gay and fashion…
Enough said…
June 14th
Woo hoo! So I’m in Atlanta. I love Atlanta, always have. The business portion of the trip seemed to go extremely well – we’ll see. I was there with a fellow alcohol enthusiast. We’ll call him Sean.
Immediately after concluding our business calls, we decided to partake in some beverages. I knew that it was time to head for The Vortex Bar & Grill in Little 5-points, one of my favorite Atlanta hangouts.
After a few Laughing Skulls, we were getting hungry and made the greatest single discovery of recent times. The owners of The Vortex have opened a Mexican restaurant, claiming to have very authentic Mexican food. Oh, really? I’ll be the judge of that. I’ve traveled this great country of ours in search for great and authentic Mexican food and I usually have to go to Mexico to get it.
No longer! You can now get awesome Mexican food here in the states.
In Atlanta…
The Bone Garden Cantina has everything that you would want in great Mexican food. This includes the best in authentic Mexican tamales. You haven’t had tamales like these unless you either went to Mexico or had my “tamale lady” make them for you after her parents in Guadalajara sent her the special ingredients. The Bone Garden Cantina has awesome food and I will be visitng there every chance I get.
OMG! They even have a Tequila Club! Sign me up.
Someone shoot me and take me to Bone Garden heaven.
After such a wonderful Mexican fiesta, there was no stopping us. It was time to head just North of Midtown to the Piedmont Heights area and find Smith’s Olde Bar. Well, my stalking paid off big. Not only did we catch Lauren Shera, who I think sounded even better than she did at Bonnaroo but she was opening for none other than… Greensky Bluegrass.
The whole evening was brilliant. Alaina, who may have been employed at Smith’s, was in charge of the beer and shots of Jagermeister. She and Sean made sure that there were no interruption in our supply chain.
From the time Greensky Bluegrass took the stage, Sean started going, “Woo hoo!”, while occasionally jumping up out of his seat and dancing around. In between the incredibly lengthy songs, Sean would shout out stuff like, “Zepplin… Play Zepplin” – or – “Floyd… Play Pink Floyd”.
I’m thinking, “Sean…this is a bluegrass band”. Imagine my surprise when I hear…
Ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way
I have to say, Greensky Bluegrass was awesome. Five guys wielding stringed instruments and playing them tight. I loved the cover songs. Pink Floyd’s Time was nice but I particularly liked When Doves Cry. You guys blew me away. In the words of my drinking buddy, Sean… “Woo hoo!”
June 17th to June 24th – Out sick and heavily medicated.
June 28th
So I get a text mesasage from a buddy of mine that says, “Got two extra box seats to see U2 tonight. Are you a fan?” Of course, I answered, “Yes!” I think he thought that I was answering, “Yes, I am a fan of U2”. Actually, I was answering, “Yes, I am a fan of box seats.”
A few hours later, my friend, Bull Johnson, and I are at Sun Life Stadium listening to opening band, Florence and The Machine. I know! The corporate sandbox was filled with food, beer and… Is that Grey Goose? Nice. The time seemed to fly by and soon enough, Simon Le Bono and The Boyz took to the stage, featuring the giant claw-like support rig and accordion-like expandable LCD panel video screen (with only a small clump of bad pixels).
Then it occured to me… The Edge, formerly known as David Evans, has the coolest name of anyone on the planet. I thought Sting and Slash had cool names, once upon a time. They’re verbs….but The Edge… How cool is that? It’s not even something tangible. He’s just… you know… like an edge.
This is when I decided that I needed a “stage name”.
This is when I decided to become… Weather.
I’m not good weather or bad weather – just Weather.
Unfortunately, Weather.com is already taken, so we’ll be sticking to this URL….or maybe I can sue those guys. Weather isn’t just intellectual property. That’s my name! Don’t mess with Weather. Weather can kill you.
Hmmm… That could be a good Eminem song. <raised eyebrow>
Well, that’s my month in review. I need to stop rambling now. I’m sure that I’ve blown right threw the normal and recommended lengths for a blog entry. I’m looking forward to July, however… I expect to be having Mexican food in Mexico. Woo hoo! I’m hoping to make it to Todos Santos, maybe La Paz. And if I find the right piece of real estate, Tortola could become just an image in my rear-view mirror. Yeah, baby.
Until next week…
Have a great 4th of July weekend and drink plenty of fluids.
Cheers
– Weather
And there’s a wino down the road…
June 24, 2011
…and we’re back!
Miraculous, I know. Everyone is telling me that, anyone getting hit by a virus these days is down for weeks. So how did I recover in just a few days? I will share my secrets.
1. Get everyone to leave you alone. If you live alone, unplug your landline and throw your cell phone in the pool. You are going to need uninterrupted periods of silence. No TV, no radio, no iPod. Trust me. Your body needs to concentrate on recovery not on Lady Gaga, and certainly not on Wham! or Air Supply.
If you do not live alone, you may have to coax your co-habitators into leaving you alone and providing you with silence. Depending on their level of stubborness, feel free to turn it up as high as an Excorcist/Poltegeist level, “Get out!”. If you can do the full-circle head spin, that’s always a plus.
If they try to turn on the television, dont let them. Set the remote on fire. Do whatever it takes. No television! We don’t need subliminal messages entering your head during the recovery period. I don’t want you to wake up days from now with a desire to own Chia Pets and/or Ginsu Knives.
2. Treat the symptoms. The symptoms are annoying as hell, aren’t they? And, again, they are a distraction. Your body can’t concentrate on purging itself of a virus while it’s busy dealing with coughing, sore throats, sinus headaches, etc. This is the main reason why we have to load up on medication and treat the symptoms. Trust me. This is coming from someone who is highly anti-medication.
3. When chosing medications, read the labeling carefully and be sure to take stuff that is known to knock you out. Remember you need the rest. If it’s OK to operate heavy machinery while using this product, you’re holding the wrong product.
If you choose NyQuil, be sure to take the right combination of stuff. If you have a stuffy head, make sure you take the one with a decongestant. If you are coughing a lot, make sure you take the one with cough stuff in it. They all look similar but have different stuff in them. it’s confusing as hell.
Personally, I like the one that has Acetaminophen, Dextromethorphan (Cough Suppressant), and Doxylamine Succunate (Antihistamine) – even though I’m really, really not a fan of antihistamines overall – oh, and 10% ALCOHOL. Gotta have the alcohol. Then, separately, if you’re having congestion problems, take some Pseudoephedrine. The real stuff. Yeah, baby… The kind you can use to make crystal meth, blow up your house, and further devaluate your neighborhood. Accept no substitute. That other stuff barely works.
By the way, it is totally insane that people make crystal meth to get high. READ THIS.
Just imagine what could be accomplished if all that effort went into something productive.
Ah, but let’s move on…
4. Eat a box of Fat Free Fig Newtons.
I’m not sure if this is an essential part of the recovery process but, the other day when I passed out from my exhaustion, congestion, fever and Nyquil, there was a brand new box of Fat Free Fig Newtons near me. When I awoke, seemingly days later, after chasing those briefcase carrying nuns off the railroad tracks, the box was empty…and I felt much better. That’s all I’m saying.
5. To get a really good night’s sleep, you gotta be able to breathe. For this, you need the worst thing that we have used yet… Oxymetazoline HCI, commonly referred to by one of its name brands, Afrin. The directions tell you to use 2 or 3 sprays into each nostril. I recommend, no more than 2. One good spray usually does it.
From the time you get a wiff of this stuff, you know it can’t be good. It starts burning out your nose, later you end up breathing too well and you start punching yourself in the face, trying to make it stop. Crazy! I Know.
Barnsley says I’m going to get sued by the drug companies… Doubtful, if anything this might increase its recreational use… among the moron population.
Ah… Now we have a good cocktail of stuff going in our system. We are going to get some rest, visit some nuns, and we are on the road to recovery. Oh, yeah!
6. A day or two have probably passed by now and people will be wondering how you are doing… Pretend you don’t know them. “Who are you? …and what do you want?” If they persist, call the police on them.
When dealing with people at your house, you should pass out as much as possible, mid-conversation is best. Then wake up three hours later and pick up the conversation from the same spot, as if unaware that any time has passed. First, you need the rest. Feel free to pass out. Second, this reinforces the idea that, you should be left alone, in silence, because speaking to you is, essentially, useless.
7. OK, we’re bringin’er home…
You’ve been flying high on over-the-counter medications for several days, resting a lot, passing out whenever it seemed like a good idea, and you’ve basically excommunicated yourself from friends and family. Perfect.
The final step is a bit of a slingshot. Something to push you way out over the edge and then snap you back into reality. Those observing will think you’ve totally lost it, then they’ll be happy and rejoice in your speedy recovery.
You’ve been recovering silently for days. Now it’s time to break the silence. But you can’t go with anything too normal or too familiar, you need to stimulate the brain. You need something so bad, that it’s good. You need something so insulting, that it’s flattering. You need your brain to kick into high gear to ensure that you haven’t lost your mind.
What you decide to listen to, you have to choose for yourself.
I chose Sport of the Future‘s cover of Sweet Child O’ Mine.
Whatever you choose.. Play it loud, play it a lot. Love it. Hate it!
Check them out on YouTube. They also cover: Eye of the Tiger, You Give Love a Bad Name, Bilie Jean, Karma Chameleon, Maneater and more. Note: Be extremely careful when clicking around there. They do a cover of Material Girl – it is not pretty. That could be considered an overdose! (Crazy, freakin’ Canadians.)
So, that’s it…
This was my formula for a quick recovery. Your results may vary.
By the way, in the three days that I was sick, I lost 5 pounds. Unfortunately, by following the methodology described herein, I got well right away, which completely foiled by new weight loss plan. If only I could have been for a few weeks, I think I could have shed those other 15 that I’ve been trying to lose since 2001. Let’s be careful out there.
Thanks for watching the show. I have to run. It’s Margarita Friday somewhere.
But stay tuned, Barnsley has a few things he wants to say.
Love yas
– Arch
It’s all yours, Barns… (Remember: Barnsley has a British accent.)
[Archie Kobain is not a medical professional and is in no way qualified to make any suggestions whatsoever regarding medical treatments or the use of any over-the-counter medications. The materials contained in this blog are written for entertainment purposes only and should not be taken as advice, medical or otherwise. Doing anything that is suggested in this blog will most likely kill you. I guess you can’t sue us if you’re dead…but also, it might not kill you. So if you’re a suicidal looney bun and you’re trying to kill yourself, well – there’s no guarantees there either. But per this disclaimer, you should also not be able to sue us if you don’t die – or under any circumstances, in the event that you just end up really messed up, or insane, or looking at all like this picture of Boy George…]
There… That should cover us.
~ Barnsley Scott
Appearing as Legal Counsel & Bartender
for Archie Kobain Enterprises Worldwide
(not including Guam & South Dakota).
We’re the dead meat club…
June 19, 2011
Well, I’m not exactly dead meat, but I’m close…
Upon returning from Bonnaroo, a terrible illness has befallen upon the Kobain household. At first, I thought it was just my body trying to purge all of the Tennessee dust that I absorbed at the four day music festival this year. No such luck… I’ve been sick in bed for the last two days. Can’t really see the computer screen, and I keep dozing off and having very weird, hallucinogenic, Nyquil induced dreams…
Old lady on a bus bench yelling, “this is dangerous”.
Aquarium filled with purple fish, swimming in purple water.
Nuns with briefcases, racing across a busy highway.
…yep, I’ve seen them all.
I hate to say it but…
I’m sorry. I can’t come to the door right now. I’m afraid that in my weakened condition, I could take a nasty spill down the stairs and subject myself to further school absences. You can reach my parents at their places of business. Thank you for stopping by. I appreciate your concern for my well-being.
Have a nice day!
I don’t know how I’m ever going to get to all the stories that I have to tell. Funny, today, I can’t even think of any of them, I just keep thinking about…
Clocks
Clocks, watches, analog or digital – it’s the one universal thing that you can trust. You can walk right up to a perfect stranger in Central Park and say, “excuse me, do you have the time?” He tells you and you trust him. And his answer was probably close enough to accurate. Just imagine going up to that same person and asking, “excuse me, is there one true God?”
How can this be? We can’t get people to agree on almost anything. Yet, we can all agree on what time it is right now. Even crazier, there are clock manufacturers and watch makers around the globe, who also agree on the speed of time and make every clock and watch keep time at exactly the same pace.
Uh… Damned nuns. Now they’re running across railroad tracks.
Are you thinking about this? A $10 Swatch and a $20K Rolex both keep time at the same pace. If you were off by even one second per hour, within a month you could be off by an hour…but that just doesn’t happen. Most clocks work just fine. I’m telling you, it’s the one universal agreement. One second is one second long…
You’re probably thinking, “what’s the big deal? Time works. Get over it.”
Yes. But it’s my job to make you think about things you hadn’t thought of.
So read on, from WikiPedia, the source of all Internet knowledge:
Early definitions of the second were based on the apparent motion of the sun around the earth. The solar day was divided into 24 hours, each of which contained 60 minutes of 60 seconds each, so the second was 1⁄86 400 of the mean solar day. However, 19th- and 20th century astronomical observations revealed that this average time is lengthening, and thus the sun/earth motion is no longer considered a suitable basis for definition. With the advent of atomic clocks, it became feasible to define the second based on fundamental properties of nature. Since 1967, the second has been defined to be the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium-133 atom.
Go ahead. Talk amongst yourselves.
Now, I’m not sure what troubles me more…
The little old Swiss watchmaker, somewhere outside of Versoix, “I need me some caesuim-133 atoms so that I can count the radiaition periods!” Where does one get caesuim-133 atoms? How do you count that fast? “Damn, I lost count just past 8 million!” – or – is anyone worried about the fact that solar day is lengthening? Doesn’t that mean that the Earth is slowing down?
There has to be deeper meaning to all of this.
I’d love to explore this farther but now there’s a train coming.
I have to try and get all these nuns off the tracks.
See you next time.
– Arch
I always said, I could suck a duck…
June 10, 2011
Good morning Sodom and Gomorrah,
Good morning sinners.
No, that wasn’t your radio set on the bleep again…
.
Well, here I am. (A)Live at Bonnaroo.
I was actually going to do a live broadcast of some sort.
Unfortunately, Barnsley was having a little trouble with the satellite uplink…
Then, when we almost had it fixed, he ran off to hear Sharon Van Etten at the Which Stage. He’s probably near the tree. Which Tree? Exactly.
So, you wanna hear about Bonnaroo? Here you go…
Is the music good? Absolutely. But I’m sure you can GoogaBing “Bonnaroo 2011” and find dozens of websites ready to review the talent, tell you about the fresh bluegrass sounds of Greensky Bluegrass, what the hippies are smoking (or licking) this year, and the fact that Band of Skulls rocked the roof off the That Tent on opening night.
I must say, I was a little disappointed that Benny Lava wasn’t part of the line-up. I really came just to see him, as he continues to be the primary “person of interest” in my on-going investigation concerning the Indian Mafia Hess Reese’s Conspiracy. Take a look at this video. I have reason to believe there are hidden messages contained within…
The real story for me, as usual, occurred on…
The Road to The Roo
It was an educational experience. Once again I was unable to participate in the Tampa to Manchester RV trek. Instead, I took a U.S. Airways flight through Charlotte to Chattanooga and relied on a duly appointed delegation of the BonnaBros to scoop me up and, eventually, deliver me to the event.
What did I learn along the way? Well, for starters, when the TSA folks ask you if you have any weapons, apparently you shouldn’t respond with, “why…what do you need?” Also, the airlines work a lot less like taxi cabs than you would think. For example: Tipping the pilot and asking him to “step on it” doesn’t get you to your next connection any faster. I won’t even tell you what happens if you offer to buy him a drink.
Next, I verified the rumor that Florida has been secretly exporting all of their ugly people to the Carolinas. It’s true. I was on one of the “cargo flights” with some of the scariest people I’ve ever seen. There was the everything from the Jesse Ventura look-alike, a few Village People wanna-bees, and the ex-wife of Frankenstein (formerly the Bride of Frankenstein). They were all on my flight. Coincidence? I think not.
By the way, I was sent intell by a secret operative. Apparently, Office Depot is in on the whole Indian Mafia, Hess / Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs conspiracy!
But I digress…
I won’t bother telling you about my flight or about the fine quality of the U.S. Airways coffee, which should say, “We Proudly Brew Whatever Coffee is on Sale”. Instead, I’ll skip right to Chattanooga, where upon landing, I find out that the BonnaBros have overheated on the way…and their vehicle was experiencing similar difficulties.
They are hours away and I’m at an airport. Sure, I could stick around there and mess with the TSA people. After all, I was already in the secure area… Maybe I could leave some unattended luggage lying around and see what happens?
.
I wanna see you in the morning
I wanna see you when the breaking day is dawning
.
Nope. I decided to head downtown and drink with the locals. I love Chattanooga locals. They are a friendly bunch and I want to send out a kudos to those who made my several hours at the Mellow Mushroom go by in the blink of an eye. First there was Marly (possibly, Marlie)… You rock. Whether I was outside, at the bar, or roaming aimlessly around the restaurant, you tracked me down and brought me my Yuengling.
Then there was Nanner.
Nanner, it was a pleasure to meet you…
- Nanner and Archie
(See… I told you I’d make you artificially famous.)
And finally, Leslie – from the Hilton Garden Inn, who is actually from Manchester, TN. Without you, I might still be wondering aimlessly around Chattanooga. Thanks for you extensive research and getting me in the right cab and pointed in the right direction. Note: I may have had a few drinks at the Mellow Mushroom. (I blame Marly.) I needed direction.
So, in the end… I made it to Bonnaroo.
We’re in the RV, the BonnaBros are all here and the party is in full motion.
Thanks for checking on me. Unfortunately, I gotta go.
I have very little bandwidth and very little brain power.
Did I mention, I’m at Bonnaroo?
See you next week.
– Arch
Wrapped up like a douche…
June 3, 2011
…I’m gonna roam’er in the night.
Instead of the stuff I had planned for this week, entitled,
The Misguided Ramblings of an Alcohol Enthusiast in New York City,
I must report on my recent ordeal at the Hess Express in Lake Grove, NY…
Archie Leaks (Mostly in the batrhroom): The Hess/Reese’s Cables
You know how absolutely everything has a built-in camera these days. So now, everyone can be part of “the man”. I, personally, think it’s great. You Tube and Twitter are now beating all mainstream media to breaking news by at least 45 minutes. This is the world we live in. Cameras are everywhere. People snapping pictures, for no apperantly reason, is a way of life. After all, digital photos are essentially free, as is broadcasting those pictures.
Well, today…here in June, I see that this Hess station is selling Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. We all know that those are usually only sold around at Easter, which was almost two months ago? So what’s the deal? Did these guys over-buy at Easter time and they still have some? …or did the supplier have a surplus and these guys decided to buy them all up at a bargain price? …do they have an expiration date?
You’ll notice that the Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs does not appear under the standard set of products at the Hershey’s Reese’s website…
http://www.hersheys.com/reeses/products.aspx
Instead they appear under Seasonal Products: Easter
http://www.hersheys.com/reeses/recipes-and-ideas/seasonal/products.aspx
I knew I was onto something. So, I decided to take a picture of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs and “text” said photo to a friend, who is known to love Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs and hates the fact that (normally) you can’t get them out of season. I knew that my friend, with deep emotional ties to “the eggs”, might be able to provide some answers.
Suddenly, the girl behind the checkout counter asks me, “did you take a picture?”.
So…I’m like, “what?”
And she repeats, “did you take a picture?”
And I say, “yes…of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs”.
So she starts nodding her head in disbelief and signals to the manager.
The manager, moves quickly to her side and says to me, “you have to ask first!”.
And I respond, “I have to ask before taking a picture of Peanut Butter Eggs?”
He then explains to me, in a somewhat pissy, Indian-American accent, that no one is allowed to take pictures inside the store, “It’s the company policy”.
The Company Policy?
What company? Not my company policy?
According to Wikipedia, central source of all Internet knowledge, “The Company” could refer to The Society of Jesus or the Christian Catholic Order of St. Ignatius…but I don’t think that’s what they were talking about. Wikepedia continues to say, The Company could also refer to either the CIA or the Indian Mafia, “an organised body of criminals based in India”. Hmmm… Now I think I’m onto something. Maybe it’s a little of each. The CIA and the Indian Mafia, possibly in an ellaborate plot to confuse Christianity, using the Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg as the conduit for their evil plan.
Well, one look at Hridayesh and Madhuri and I knew the CIA was off the hook. I wanted to know more but I didn’t have my passport with me and I knew there were only seconds before an white, unmarked, Mercedes G-Class would pull up, things would go dark, and I would wake up a few days later, wearing kurta pajamas, in room with bare cinder block walls and a barred window featuring a distant view of The Haji Ali Dargah.
Kurta Pajamas
Pretending that I wasn’t on to his Indian mafia connection,
I asked, “what company, Hess?”
He could see that I was lying, so to speak, but decided to give me a break.
He smiled and answered, “yes”.
My first thought was to take a picture of him, then run to my getaway car. Of course, the people I was with didn’t know we were a getaway car. Plus, I think “the manager” had just turned informant. He wanted me to get away with the information that I had just stumbled upon. So… I just gave him a look, as if to say, “your secret is safe with me”, but acknowledging that I understood all that was going on here with Hess, the Indian Mafia, the Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs and giving him my solemn pledge to expose this conspiracy to the world. So I quickly gathered my purchases, ran to my waiting vehicle, and insisted that we “step on it”, as if I had just robbed a bank. And, almost as quickly as we had arrived, our rented Dodge Charger became just another inconspicuous traveler among the Long Island traffic.
So, who is in on this? Just this one Hess Express? The entire Hess Corporation? The people at Hershey’s? And, discounting the whole India connection, for just a moment, let’s ponder whether or not the Hess Corporation actually has any authority over anyone’s abilities to take pictures inside their stores. My guess would be that, inside of a facility that they own, they probably have the right to allow or disallow the taking of pictures…maybe. Lord knows that if you show up with commercial cameras at a Disney property, the Disney police show up asking you for permits within 30 seconds. But really, seriously? What kind of deep dark secrets do you suppose are lingering inside this oil company’s, gas-station-attached convenience stores, whereby snapping photographs is against company? …to the point where the employees need to berate the violating customer?
You know who needs to enforce this company policy? Wal-mart.
I mean… Have you seen People of Wal-mart.com …?
There’s something that needs stopping.
Well, anyway, here’s the photograph…
Illegal Photograph
Resolution? Well… I now feel obliged to encourage all my readers to visit your local Hess Gas Station, take pictures of dumb stuff, like Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs, and send those photos to me… I will try to publish them here, unless “The Hess Man” is able to shut me down and I end up in Mumbai. In the meantime, maybe we will discover Hess’ deep dark secrets, maybe will we find out how they can get Peanut Butter Eggs while the rest of the world has to wait for Easter.
The truth is out there.
.
Huh! I’m outta luck, outta love
Gotta photograph, picture of
Passion killer, you’re too much
You’re the only one I wanna touch
.
Maybe soon I can tell you about the rest of my NY trip.
Next week, I’ll be Bonnaroo Bound. Bonnarooooo!
For now, I’m off…
Off like a cheap suit, Off like a Prom Dress…
– Arch
Touched for the thirty-first time…
May 27, 2011
Is it getting better?
Or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now?
You’ve got someone to blame…
.
Well, that didn’t go as expected. The world didn’t end last Saturday, after all.
Now I’m having to walk home from San Antonio. Although, I may not actually have a home, anymore. I met some sucker last week who didn’t know the world was ending, and he gave me $5000 in exchange for a quit claim deed on my house. Fortunately. I didn’t spend it all. I still have about 50 bucks. I’m sure I’ll be able to work things out, if I ever get back…
Anyway, I’m making good time. I should be in Louisiana by winter.
.
Walk with electroglide on the Blue Highway
Wave below to Christ on my highway
Yes, I almost died on a Blue Highway
.
Hot Chicks
I got an interesting question via “viewer mail”…
Dear Archie,
You seem to mention hot chicks quite a bit.
How do you happen upon so many hot chicks, all the time?
I’m really glad you asked this question because it does need some ‘splaining. The way I see it, there are basically three classifications for adult females (who are not related to you):
- Wives of Friends – I don’t even know what these women look like. I don’t know if your wife is cute, I don’t know if she’s athletic, I wouldn’t even notice if her head burst into flames. I’m not about to look at her that closely. If she goes missing, I probably can’t help you find her ’cause I’m not sure what she looks like. On the up-side, I’ll never be able to pick her out of a police line-up. Sorry – this is just how I roll.
- Giant Assed Flight Attendants – Most commonly found on U.S. Airways, these are not the cute flight attendants who usually work in First Class. These are the ones who don’t really fit in the corridor, down the middle of the airplane. So, if you happen to be sleeping, in an aisle seat, as she is pushing the drink cart past you, that side-to-side swinging butt will smack you in the side of your head. As you abruptly awaken in a startled state, you may catch the trail end of an “excuse me”, now in the distance.
- Hot Chicks – That’s right. If you’re not in either of the above categories, you’re a hot chick. I think that simplifies things, don’t you? When someone asks you about a female, and you’re not sure what to say, never again do you have to come up with politically vague answers like, “she has a really nice personality”. Now you can just say, “she’s a hot chick” (and, later, refer them here if they have any further questions).
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: Are you saying that my 80 year old grandmother is a hot chick?
A: Yes and No. To me she’s a hot chick. I’ll even tell her that she’s a hot chick. She’ll love it – trust me. You on the other hand, cannot call her a hot chick. She’s your grandmother you sick bastard.
Q: I have a giant ass but I’m not a flight attendant. What am I?
A: Hot chick. Remember, all Trans-Ams were Firebirds but not all Firebirds were Trans-Ams. I’m not sure how that applies here but the bottom line is that, you are mostly likely a hot chick regardless of you ass size. Just don’t go and get a job on U.S. Air and subsequently wake me up, with your giant ass, while I’m trying to sleep.
.
I’ve been singing with my band
Across the wire, across the land
I seen every blue-eyed floozy on the way
.
Speaking of giant asses…
Dry Erase Pants
I had a colossal idea. First of all, I love whiteboards. I love drawing on them. I think in whiteboard. I used to think in lyrics – I’ve moved on. Now I think in whiteboard. So the other day, I’m at a bar – there’s a big surprise – and I’m strategizing with some other alcohol enthusiasts, when suddenly, I needed a whiteboard. Bars don’t have whiteboards… They should, I know.
Next thing you know, a hot chick walks by wearing a pair of white pants. Sure. I thought of asking her if I could draw on them but bars also don’t keep markers handy. I know – it’s like a hostile work environment. But then, in a moment of brilliance, it hit me – Dry Erase Pants.
Think about this. Seriously… Wouldn’t it be great if there were people walking around wearing pants coated with whiteboard stuff, so that you could draw on them and then erase them? So then you could be at a bar, you need to whiteboard an idea and you call someone over… “”Excuse me, could we draw on your pants?”
What can they say, “Of course…they are Dry Erase Pants! Have at it.”
It’s brilliant.
Naturally, you can pick who you asks according to the size of your project.
Ugh… This just keeps getting better. Maybe we can get U.S. Air to make them part of their standard issue uniform for the giant assed flight attendants… Now, that’s what I would call Business Class!
And, how easy would it be to accesorize?
Picture a belt, with different color markers hanging off the back.
Handy… and … Brilliant, I say!
.
She had a horror of rooms, she was tired, you can’t hide beat
When I looked in her eyes they were blue, but nobody home
She could’ve been a killer if she didn’t walk the way she do,
…and she do
She opened strange doors that we’d never close again
.
i was listening to a guy from HP the other day. Eventually, I decided that I had no idea what he was talking about. We were discussing Market Development Funds. This refers to when a manufacturer, such as HP is this case, gives you money for bringing them new business. Well, suddenly, this guy starts throwing in an acronym, IBMDF…and I’m like… what? This stood for Incremental Business Market Development Funds. Of course, I’m thinking that HP would never have a program that sounded so much like something belonging to IBM. So, after hearing IBMFD so many times, I start thinking, maybe I’m confused. Maybe this guy works for IBM.
Well, a little while later, after I was convinced this guy worked for IBM, he says, “and we can get someone from HP involved, if we have to”. And I’m like, what? Since when do IBM folks want to get HP involved?
It gets worse. A few more minutes go by and he starts telling me that whenever we go to use this program, the key is to make sure that we are comparing Apples & Apples. So… I’m like… How’d Apple get involved?
At the end of the day, I have no idea who this guy actually worked for.
Luckily, I had my shrink ray with me. So, I shrunk him down to about a half-inch, stuck him to a piece of 3M heavy-duty double-stick carpet tape and attached him to a friend’s car. Last time I saw him he was headed East on Interstate 10 doing about 72 miles per hour on the hood of an old Chevy pickup truck.
Speaking of heading East on Interstate 10 at 72 miles per hour, I gotta go.
See you next week, when I will be broadcasting Live from New York City.
By the way, my blog consultant, Barnsley, told me to never, ever make a blog entry with all text and not single photo. So, here’s a picture of my friend, Stonesy, holding our Bonnaroo 2011 RV Parking Passes. Woo hoo!
And, YES, we were at Wings ‘n Things in Pompano Beach.
And, YES, we were drinking Yuengling.
And, YES, I do love beer.
Gotta run!
See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya…
– Arch
Here we are now, in containers…
May 20, 2011
Sadly enough, this will be my last blog entry…
I know, I know. Many people encouraged me to start writing again, and I’ve only been back at it for a few weeks, but it’s completely out of my control. Why are you looking at me like this? It’s not like you’re going to be around to read future blog entries. Haven’t you heard?
The world is ending tomorrow…you idiot! Here, read this…
The End of the World As We Know It? Saturday is “Rapture Day”
It makes perfect sence to me. Remember how the Mayan calendar ends in 2012, so everyone was saying the world was going to end then. Not a chance. Think about it… There’s the Mayan Calendar Geniuses, working away, making lots of progress, when Head Mayan comes in and goes, “what are you guys doing?” Chief Calendar Maker, September Sanchez, speaks up and says, “we’re working on 2012”. So Head Mayan explains to him that the world will be ending in 2011, there’s no need to keep going. And that, my friends, explains the discrepancy. In fact, I think they went ahead and paid them for 2012, even though we wouldn’t be needing it….something about a Mayan Fair Labor Act of 512 BC.
Well, anyway… If we’re going to die tomorrow, I say we go down listening to Kraftwerk.
The sad part is that, I wont even be back from San Antonio by then.
I won’t be able to enjoy the rapture in the comfort of my own home.
Hmmm… I just had a wierd thought. Just in case the world doesn’t end,
maybe I shouldn’t have purchased a one way ticket to San Antonio?
Speaking of which, did I tell you about my flight over here?
.
Give me a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain’t got time to take a fast train
.
It had been months since I’d on an airplane. Unfortunately, my private pilot (and personal bartender), Barnsley, still hasn’t updated his license. Commercial airlines, here I come. I was headed to San Antonio this week, thus Continental through Houston seemed like a logical choice. So, in spite of my last Continental flight making an unexpected overnight stop in Amarillo, the flight was booked and I was on my way. I think I was secretly hoping for an unexpected overnight stop in New Orleans. I haven’t been there in a while.
But again, having not flown in a while, I was out to enjoy every moment. I was on the lookout for fun. So I get to the airport, check a bag, print my boarding pass and I’m off to tackle the multi-layered TSA security process. After “the guy” looks at my driver’s license and scribbles something on my boarding pass that no one ever looks at again, I am forwarded to the non-moving lanes for the metal detector / bag screening. There were about 5 or 6 of these gizmos but only two lanes are open. I chose the right lane since the left lane appeared to be clogged by “things with wheels”. This was a mixture of parents pushing young people in strollers, airport personnel trying to navigate old people in wheel chairs, and a guy named Al Kayda with a hand truck.
As my good luck would have it, however, I was in line behind a good smelling hot chick. So, if security was taking their time, it wasn’t going to be too terribly painful. After a little while of standing in these non-moving lines, a TSA person comes walking around instructing, “put away your boarding passes, we don’t need to see them again. We don’t need to see your boarding passes or your driver’s license – put them away”. Of course, being the highly compliant and obedient traveler that I am, I quickly shoved everything into my pockets. Then the next TSA person walks by saying, “everything has to be out of your pockets – everything, not even your boarding pass”. Hey… wait a minute, I just put my boarding pass away – in my pocket. What was I thinking?
Just then, a big Irish guy behind me goes, “uh… I accidentally brought fruit juice with me”. I look at him in disbelief. Since when do the Irish drink fruit juice? Sure enough, he has a brand new, unopened, 16 ounce container of fruit juice in his hand which had apparently stowed away in one of his pockets. So I say, “what are you going to do now, Buddy…panic?”
He starts looking around for a garbage can when, after a startling discovery, I say to him, “wait… we’re in luck. I accidentally brought vodka”….and I pull out a bottle of Grey Goose. Not to be left out of the pending festivities, the hot chick in front of us turns around holding a sleeve of Dixie cups. Next thing you know, we’re having cocktails and my new Irish friend (Jimmy) is leading us in Irish drinking songs…
The line moves a little bit and the next TSA guy is approaching. By the time I catch what he’s saying all I heard was, “everything has to come off”. Now, I’m thinking, this is getting to sound like a real party. As he gets closer, repeating himself, I hear, “everything needs to come out of your pockets – everything. Shoes, belts, jackets…everything has to come off.” Just then, Jimmy starts waiving to the TSA guy and pointing to the hot chick (let’s call her, Janice). “What about bras and panties?” Stop. Read that back again. This time, using your best Irish accent…
Just then, Jimmy starts waiving to the TSA guy and pointing to Janice…
“What about bras and panties?” It was funnier that time, wasn’t it?
By now, Janice was doing shots of vodka. I blame Jimmy.
He only brought a small container of fruit juice… slacker!
The TSA is walking in our direction, while talking into his walkie-talkie. He’s not looking happy. I can’t decide if I should be looking in other directions, as though completely unaware of Jimmy (behind me) pointing to Janice (in front of me) or if I should look him right in the eye, like a bear.
“Did you people come to the airport drunk?”, asks TSA guy.
“No Sir”, I responded, as Janice hid the bottle of Grey Goose behind her back.
“I need the three of you to come with me”, said TSA guy and started walking in a direction inconsistent with boarding any aircraft.
“What about the bras and panties?”, Jimmy insisted. (reminder: Irish accent)
The TSA guy led us to a room where I eventually signed several forms agreeing to never disclose the events that took place inside. I am at liberty to say that Janice looked quite nice in her black bra and panties. Jimmy was wearing a red bra and panties and he, surprisingly, pulled off the look quite well. Shortly after signing my confidentiality agreement, I got a text message from Barnsley. He’d been appraised of the situation and was sending help. Just then the room started getting brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding. Suddenly…
A gathering of angels appeared above my head,
they sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said…
They said, “come sail away, come sail away,
come sail away with me lads”
As it turns out…
I thought that they were angels, but much to my surprise,
we climbed aboard their starship, we headed for the skies.
Naturally, I thought this was a direct flight to San Antonio, but no…
Similar to Continental, we had to stop off at a Houston.
Of course, we were headed to Maxwell’s to get the starship washed & waxed.
The maybe pickup up some drugs, weapons and a raccoon sandwich.
Get Your Raccoon Sandwich Here!
So, finally, we’re back on the starship and on the way to San Antonio
(pronounced, San Antone). Short flight, no worries… Yes?
Short flight, no worries.. No!
Because I had to sit next to the big dude who gets a middle seat and then spills over onto everyone around him. You know the guy. Well, you’ll get to meet him here in a moment.
I give you Exhibit A…
Clearly, he’s way over on my side. Now I give you, Exhibit B…
OK, so… Here he is.
If you see him coming, don’t let him sit next to you.
He’ll even be sure to cover up the controls to the DirecTV…
- Again, note the center line.
and even, my not-so-loving fans, and remember…
Old pirate’s just a rabbi…
May 13, 2011
So, back in the days of Static, people used to comment on my various ramblings, mostly after the fact. These days, I keep getting suggestions as to what I should write about. Thus far, aside from being called a “borderline tea-bagger”, which I am really not, it has been suggested that I write about:
- Fuel Prices
- WikiLeaks.org
- Cell Phones with GPS and Location Privacy
- Bad Customer Service at AT&T and/or Comcast
- How Legalizing Drugs Would Solve All of Our Problems
What do I know about these thing?
I’m just a guy, trying to find something to eat in Tlacotalpan…
.
All our times have come
Here but now they’re gone
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
.
[Thinks to himself: “Hmm… That could use a little more cowbell.”]
Is the grizzly reaper mowing?
Here’s what I want to talk about…
Color Me “Unkindled”
Someone asked me the other day If I was going to get a Kindle. I don’t think so. When I read a book, I want to smell the paper, bend the corners of the pages, and leave it open, face-down, lying around my house, so as to not lose my place. Besides, on an airplane they make you turn off everything that has an off switch. Guess what I do during that time?
True. I haven’t seen a take-off in years because I fall asleep the moment I get settled into my seat on an airplane and don’t wake up until we’re at 10,000 feet – but what about when landing? That’s when I do most of by book reading.
But here’s the real reason that I’m never getting a Kindle: It makes book reading look just like everything else… Here’s what I mean. In the not-too-distant past, “writing” looked like a guy with a pad of paper or maybe a guy using a typewritter. Today it looks like a guy using a laptop. Not too long ago, planning a trip required looking at some magazines, maps, and maybe calling a travel agent. Today it looks like a guy using a laptop. Not too long ago, paying bills involved paper bills and paper checks, you had to do some math and exercise your brain. Today it looks like a guy using a laptop. Shopping once required that you go to a store, maybe a mall, where you would inadvertently have to interact with other humans. Today, shopping looks a lot like someone using a laptop. So when I read a book, I never want to have to charge my book or put batteries in it. I don’t want my book to generate any heat. I want to enjoy its colorful (or not) cover. I want to know how much of a book I have left to read by looking at the thickness of the unread pages. If it’s really bad, I want to throw it across the room or maybe set it on fire. I don’t care if there’s an app for that. I don’t want reading a book to look like everything else. So kill me some trees and I’ll see you at Off the Beaten Path.
.
One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.
.
Ah, there are two other important things to talk about this week.
#1 – O-Marley Bin Dead Long
That’s right. Bob Marley’s been dead for 30 years now.
Think anyone is going to give a rat’s ass about Bin Laden 30 years from now?
So in honor of the dearly departed Marley, here’s a treat.
One of favorite performers from way back, Graham Parker,
performing No Woman, No Cry. Enjoy..
.
You have to do your best to come up to par,
From straight off the production line like a car,
‘Til everything you put on is a put-on,
And you don’t know who’s face you’re gazing upon
.
And my favorite story of the week – ONLY in FLORIDA, of course…
Please Read: 3 Accused in FL with Evil Spirit Cleansing Scam
How does this happen?
First, who is sitting at home thinking, “how do I get rid of these evil spirits?”
Then later, by a stroke of luck, you stumble across someone in that business.
Next, you decide to send them money. I’m thinking that most religious cleansing should be done at no charge…or maybe for 15% of your annual income…but hardly ever in return for a Rolex. Of course, I’m only an apprentice at this religious cleansing thing. Maybe I’ll learn more after a few more Sunday schools.
But what happens next? Do you sit around waiting and then make a brilliant discovery,”hey… I sent those people money and the evil spirits are still here. I got ripped off. The whole thing was a fraud!”
Of course, they’re probably going to claim that it wasn’t a fraud and that they did actually cleanse their customers of said evil spirits. We are still innocent until proven guilty, correct? And we do still have freedom of religion, yes/no?
So the prosecutors should have to prove that Polly, Bridgitte, and Olivia took money from their customers but didn’t actually cleanse them of evil spirits. They should have to bring one of the customers to the court room and show that their evil spirits are still present. But you know, I’ll bet you that some particularly nasty evil spirits required multiple treatments. And in the evil spirit business, there can’t be guarantees. It could be like removing a computer virus. You can get rid of one today and go right out and get yourself another one tomorrow.
Maybe, similar to anti-virus software, what you need is some sort of a continuous effort where you pay a monthly fee to be enrolled in an ongoing anti-evil spirit program…and if you don’t see results in 6 months, we’ll refund your money. Thoughts?
.
Hans plays with Lotte, Lotte plays with Jane
Jane plays with Willi, Willi is happy again
Suki plays with Leo, Sacha plays with Britt
Adolf builds a bonfire, Enrico plays with it
.
Well, I probably shouldn’t be bloging and texting while sipping on a Dos Equis (amber)
and driving 86 miles an hour on I-75 through Alligator Alley.
See you in the next life, wake me up for meals.
Cheers.
– Arch
Archie Kobain 