Beiber and I…Both Usin Our Heads
June 7, 2012
Well F-ing A Kats & Cittens it’s been a few days…near on a week, and Ya know I was sure I posted this post a few days ago as a way of explanation…but well here I am, and since i didn’t post the “Beiber and I” post lets do a little 
re-write finish er up and roll with it now…
And see the thing is well, see I bashed my own head into our wall and so I…wait what?
Okay lets back up it goes like this, I think it was Friday, I was just getting done with reading and commenting on some of my favorite blogs…I think my last one specifically was Snarky Snatch, and if you haven’t read her, (or if ya stopped by and didn’t give her a chance ’cause of all the naughtiness) ya may jes want to, definitely, as she is fond of saying, the funniest blog about the Cleveland On-line dating scene ( and I’ll go so far as to say consistently and outrageously funny).
Anyway, getting done, I stood up from the computer with coffee in one hand and ashtray etc in the other and…my left foot caught on the chair leg, I stepped with my right only to come down on the cat, at this point any smart person, any functional unit would have jest fell…
I of course, not wanting to fall, not wanting to spill what was in my hands, sprang forward (as my scrambling feet finally touched floor) only to slam head first (like a linebacker making helmet to helmet contact lol) into one of our walls.
All of this I recalled later of course, at first all I knew is that I had tripped over the cat and somehow my head hurt like f and I was bleeding all over the place. I remember looking down at all the broken glass (a long with the coffee cup and a small glass serving bowl a large picture had fallen and was laying broken at my knees) and wondering if I’d somehow fallen into the broken glass and cut my head or…?
I mean I wasn’t sure, I started cleaning up etc… tried to get the bleeding under control…decided I’ d somehow hit my head (because of the tremendous amount of pain in my noggin) I knew of course that I should probably go to the ER but I mean like that of course wasn’t going to happen (mainly of course ’cause Lil’ Mouse wasn’t around to force me to go lol).
Okay so what you don’t know is though I started this on Sunday night, added to it Tuesday morning, I am jes now maybe setting back to finishing it and we aren’t even at 500 words yet lol…so whoops yea but back to it.
So I guess once the bleeding stopped. I could get a good look at it and it certainly wasn’t a cut. It was a big mushy spot with two smallish lacerations. Every time I tried to think about what happened though my body kind’a rebeled (even now days I’m gettin the twinges). So anyway I fashioned a turban out of a t shirt and stuffed an ice pack in it and sat quietly waitin’ fer the Mouse to get home (don’t ask me why…like much of what I did in those hours[including weeding fer awhile 'cause I didn't want the house to get bloody but also didn't jes want to sit there bleeding] much is foggy unreliable and understandably ununderstandable). In the waiting and trying not to think about it,(trying not to think in general ’cause thinking hurt) I ended up of course continuing to think about it…that’s when I had my first sneaking suspicion s that I had actually bumped my head into the wall.
It wasn’t until Lil’ Mouse got home and I was trying to explain, re-inact the hilarity that I finally understood (with of course Mouse’s help) what fully took place. See I hate falling down, hate slipping tripping what have you and losing my feet and falling down…take it kind’a as a point of pride…(I’d say a “man” thing here but one of my other favorite blogging gals onlyspartanwomen might take umbrage) Anyway it dawned on me that I must have, like I often do in this situation, tried to spring out of the fall (years ago, toe strapped into a Cannondale bike, doing an endo after clipping the guy in the line ahead of me’s back tire, I face planted on the bike trail grinding to a halt on my face and three front teeth, because, while I was going down, I kept trying to pull out of it instead of rolling with it[hopefully that makes sense)...so see I spa-rang forward, and probably might have pulled out of it, been okay, if the wall wasn't like a foot away and I hadn't spa-rang into it like a rutting ram...
Anyway the end result is of course, I have a concussion, I don't need a Doctor to tell me that, I've had like too many to count (really, I had like three before I was ten, two more before 15 [I remember those because they are family history and so the story has been verified as it were] but countless times I got conked in the noggin livin the rough life, I think I was just too fucked up all around and in general to ever notice the difference)…but now…okay and anyway so I got wrap this up today I swear so that ya’ll know…well hopefully you’ve noticed I haven’t been around lol I don’t wanna get a swelled head…
*Note everything above written between 6/3(ish?) and 6/6 am the rest here is added tonight wed 6/6 pm and okay maybe I jes didn’t wanna end on such a lame joke. The pic is about how bad it looked. Work (the reason I took the pic) wasn’t real impressed either so I have continued to work…(my little uncomplicated job) but that’s about all I have been able to muster fer the last few days. Today was better. I hardly said anything too weird or retarded to my co-workers, my headache is diminished to a spot jes behind my left eye, I actually sat in the sun fer about twenty minutes today, and my frustration at “every little thing” level is easing off a bit I think. I of course don’t really notice any differences in my behaviors, but Lil’ Mouse says I am having some residuals, which she says is just more of what I usually am fergetful, cantankerous, creatively odd…so I am not sure if that is really something that has happened, or that in the physical stress of the event my carefully crafted shell of normalcy is having some problems maintaining it’s already shaky facade…
So…I promise I’ll be back after all I got this done, it’s still a thousand words (though it took four days and only has two pics)…but fer awhile I might jes visit sites, finish posting Left Turn, maybe some thing small once in awhile…my concentration abilities (never stellar) are a little on the fritz still and my vertical holds all wonky…but as always ya…oh the f..see i almost fer got, the whole Beiber thing, see Lil’ Mouse found out that ol’ JB got a concussion also…she thinks that hilarious…
And Miss Snarks, if yer still interested I am..
No ya dirty minded bastards on me being a guest blogger (it might be a month or so) but I’d still be honored…
Anyway and Jesus…I gotta stop fer the night…it takes me ferever to write two sentences, but hell that’s better than it’s been 9praise Jay-sus and hallelujah) I’ll post LT Chapter 20 soon, thanks all fer yer…everythings and whatevers ya’ll are great and make an even more clankity and dysfunctional ol unit give a little gosh darn blush of humbleosity
Okay well anyway I couldn’t remember how the poem stagnant blue went exactly at the end there but I hope I caught the spirit of it…and I did add the snazzy picture.
So yea lets see…poetry in college now, is that where we are.
Took Poetry 101, 102, etc then went back and did it all again at a different school a year or two later. Lee Malloryinski at Rancho Santiago College was one of my best poe-fessors, whoops, okay well I went back and altered his name in case he doesn’t wanna be mentioned here. It might have been he that gave me the Bukowski book (he used to brag that Bukowski punched him in the nose once), I wrote a poem about it but I won’t put it up here, it’s slightly…mean spirited…and I only have respect and thanks fer the guy now…but hell I’m getting a few years ahead of myself so lets jump back shall we…
I was still sometimes in theater productions (as I mentioned above I attended community colleges while continuing to be mostly homeless [some times in and out of jails or institutions, some times sleeping on friends couches, sometimes breaking into vacant houses/apartments most times sleeping outdoors]). But the whole band(s…numerous attempts) thing never really panned out, never got famous, never made millions.
In the mid eighties(ish?), having just finished as a chorus member in “HMS Pinafore” (that is a whole nother post and I can’t get into it now or we’ll get way off track[hell I'm gonna be toppin a thousand words again Ma...). Some of the guy's involved in that were also involved in putting on variety shows for a local coffee house in Fullerton Ca named after a rootish vegetable (...if you know you know). They were pushing me to do something fer the show, put together some skit or something....I kept putting them off...finally one of them suggested I take some of my punk songs and turn them into poems, he talked about beats and stuff (I of course had already a few years back read Kerouac etc) so I got really into the idea...here's a sample of one of those first poems
Suburbia suburbia
You think life is TV
Soap opera wives with flash dance lives
And moral hypocrisy
Suburbia suburbia
It's sad that you can't see
From your mini vans to your plastic bags
How your killing society
It was called, in case ya couldn't guess Suburbia...and in the long run it wasn't that great even with the screaming and thrashing music. Okay so even though the poems weren't that great, they went over well and I had fun doing it. I heard about some other poetry readings and began to semi haunt a couple. Then at the tail end of the eighties, after an extended period of tequila and coke fueled binges (I was living with Doidman and an ex stock broker turned coke dealer and his chickee [who were both from South Carolina (maybe?)] at the time in a rented house in Lake Forest, California [churning out poetry on my little Mac 512k] I ended up with an extended stint in the Royal Treatment Center, which is of course not nearly as royal or treatment oriented as it sounds…
The point being two fold, one, I had written a hell of a lot of poetry(notebooks full) both prior to and once inside the institution(one of my best known, 51/50, is from this time period) and when I got out some months later it seemed there were poetry readings everywhere…
And this is when my poetry story really takes off. I kinda become the new kid at all the local readings. My stage presence makes me a hit with the audience, even though much of my poetry is, by the other poets in the room, judged to be inferior. Over the next year or so I really developed my own voice. Not that I wasn’t told over and over, “It really isn’t poetry is it.”…many of the other local poets, especially those who were big on the So Cal scene when I started making the circuit, were not fond of my loud in yer face, take no prisoners attitude…this was Poetry after all…(after one reading , where I had three costume changes on stage while reading, and an electric guitarist playing thrashing chords to a multimedia slide show an important player in the So Cal Scene and host of the reading Michel *Somebody* actually told me I would never get another featured reading “in this town again”, later I learned he was a big deal being professor of English at Chapman University, but I didn’t give a shit, and of course I went on to have hundreds* of featured readings, including eventually being invited to Chapman as part of the “Four Tom’s” but again I am getting way ahead of myself…
I started back to school, I was half way settling down with a woman and going to have a kid (I know, I know haven’t I already discussed left turnism, what else can I say) but I was on SSI & SDI (lol man is that a story) and semi solvent so…back to school I went.
This is where I meet the famously smooth Lee Malloryinski, and begin to attend the Factory Readings in Santa Ana. This is early 90′s, the Auganga Kid is not born yet, but I am living with his Mom, going to school, and really trying hard to make money doing what I love…thinking stuff up and writing it down. It’s also about this time where I am introduced (finally many say) to Bukowski’s poetry (then prose later). Reading him, though we are not exactly the same, still gives me a feeling of validation because in many ways (I’ve been told over and over) our styles are similar. He was just so f-ing depressing, I mean I lived it, why did I want to read about it. But we did share some stylistic and subject commonalities, and I was afraid if I read too much cB, my own voice would drift more toward his…after all he was making money by this point, having movies made about his adventures in left turnism…and I of course…okay off track…
Ooo I like yer stuff!
In Lee’s class I hone my poetic style, and at “The Factory Readings” I polish my delivery. As always, again, God, fate, whatever, I am blessed with great stage presence, as my poems become more stylistically constant, I become a solid audience favorite. My popularity grows so much so that first Lee, then soon other hosts begin to put me as opener to their respective readings. (I’m not saying my poetry was that great, just that for many reasons, including my poetry, I was a good opening act)It isn’t long before I become quite well known on the performance poetry “coffee house circuit”. I still hadn’t had a featured slot, (I sure thought I was ready [man I must have been an annoying pompous lil fuck])but I am all over the so cal map, hitting easily ten or more readings a month. At this point I have yet to hear the term “Slam” but there are performance poetry contests suddenly springing up at nearly every venue and then some. I rarely take first due to low scores by the panels of experts, but I always place in the top three (really truly, never placed less than third, and by far most common is 2nd place*) if the audience vote is considered. In fact I do so well, and it is so common I write a poem called “Call me Mr. 2nd* Place” it wasn’t that good, I don’t remember more than the first line or two and anyway here we are running long…
I hope to God this will at least be interesting to my kids someday ’cause Jumped up Jesus, this has become like some albatross around my neck and, though now determined to finish what I’ve begun, I can’t believe any of you out there are still reading let alone wanna hear more….and I still haven’t gotten to the “Four Tom’s“, Psycho Boy & “Next” Magazine, “Homeless to House husband” my last chapbook and one man perf po play at the Ritz on Hollywood Blvd, and boy-howdy Slam action galore! So yea…If yer at all interested you can check out my latest poetry here at 409…otherwise I will continue with Part 4 of this…this…whatever it is I’m doing here…at some point…you’ve all been attendant and faithful friends….I should take at least a little time and do the same…but no promises this morning Cat’s & Kittens….I mean I’ve been so good at keeping them the last 48 hour…so
Imagine if you will my Cat’s & Kitten’s, if you can oh my most competent readers, that I’m not this ol’ cantankerous, clankity, assholeyish, fist ready, sin soaked, dysfunctional unit. Instead let’s imagine me as I was earlier in life, as
a young fresh unit, inherent flaws not yet exposed, not yet fissured under the coming pressures. This little Unit(a part of me that still exists in it’s own way)liked animals, nature(I wanted to be a biologist), plants, flowers, stories, and poems, puzzles, games, crosswords, chess(still suck due to lack of patience) even dabbled in stamp and insect collections lol…of course these things aren’t a boy’s best friend, especially bigger boys who look like they might someday play football or some other real mans past time…oh it is to laugh.
A lot of this little Units ideas about who he was are lost to me now( I only remembered about the stamp and insect collections while typing [I actually had to stop typing and almost went and told Lil' Mouse so I didn't ferget, but she's still sleeping, and as I went it dawned on me I'd just typed it down...])but this is about poetry so lets get back to that…
I remember in general that I loved the gentle fun of poetry, it’s often (in kids poems especially) twist on words, meanings, puns, word play in general. I remember specifically and most my enjoyment of Ogden Nash(OMG you bastards I jes remembered how I used to go around reciting Shel Silverstien’s Boa Constrictor) and now obviously I must have been familiar with and enjoyed Shel Silverstien (I did buy his books of poetry for my own kids but…and…anyway…) I’m going to get off of talking about little Unit ’cause this is gonna make me puke if I keep having these memories regurgitating up like this…
This is just about Poetry…I know I wrote a lot of poetry…not only in my memory but part of the collective family memory, those stories passed along such as “You were always a happy child.” It is yer memory about yerself, but is it truly something I “remember” or just know (though this is true about me, as much still now as it was then[or so I've been told] because the weird thing is even when I’m sad, I’m happy to be sad fer awhile)…and see poetry fits with this little unit perfectly
Unfortunately, call it fate God’s plan whatever,the now growing Unit’s family was not as fond of poetry and or poetic type people (and all the rest that came with the above…oh it is to laugh).
So let’s jump a bunch of years (mainly cause I don’t remember and don’t wanna sit here and possibly do so). The next poet I really remember was in High School (ya know back in that English class where you learned about the poem that was shaped like an umbrella or atom bomb and ya thought that was really cool)when I was introduced to ee cummings. I was of course one of those troubled (but also still in general “happy” figure that out lol)high school units who wrote poetry, the kind well meaning young female English teachers take a shine to and pass on enough positives to explode an already overly intrigueable mind..wow it’s too bad you will never see the previous sentence in it’s pre-edited form…lol, a complete mystery even to me. But I’m sure the time this is posted it will be fixed.
The point is I was of course growing in my “social awareness” and my well meaning teacher draws my attention to this
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
Okay this not only had me saying “Yea! What do ya have to say Mr. Man?” But also “hey I like the way he writes poetry.” and like many young poets after first reading ee I began to write all my poems in lower case (lol, I did, and I stuck with it fer years, even down to the lower case i).
Here’s one of the poems from this period, notice the similarities (except mine was condensed from a lines written during a mushroom tripp)
I continued to write poetry, but I was also in theater and was one of the leading “men” in our school productions. I was also beginning to dabble in drugs and alcohol, had already spent more than one night on the street(by the end of h.s. I did not live at my parents and siblings home [many nights I slept on the beach and walked the three or so miles to school]). I was also a fan of this new fun, angry, anti man, intellectually quirky music called punk. And fer awhile my poetry became lyrics and combined with my natural clown like public persona (and almost acceptable singing voice)I was a natural to front bands. So poetry of course took a back seat ’cause I was sure I was going to be famous(rich was secondary in my head it was fame I craved)…I mean I was sure of it…lololol….(praise Jesus of course in hind sight that it was not to be and that God had other plans in store fer me).
Ola Gato’s y Gatitios…it’s me the Ol Dysu back fer another fabulous round of…whatever the hell it is I do here. So here’s the dealey-o fer today…
Recently I have been in a wonderful series of discussions (here on WP) with Bluebird (obviously not her real name) revolving around writing, both prose and poetry. She is by far more technically savvy than me. Let me get that in the open right off the get go, especially regarding prose in case I inadvertently (somewhere in the following piece[or part two fer that matter]) imply anything to the contrary. In this process I have uncovered interesting hidden truths about not only some of my past works that I have been posting here, but the new pieces and posts that I pepper this imaginary place we call the world wide web as well…
An actual Bluebird, not Blogger Bluebird
Okay, as usual, I’m not going to go straight to these “hidden truths” but head there circuitously by way of the next reply I was gettin ready to post on her page entitled “Reading Poetry in the Big Chief Years”…I hadn’t planned to do things this way(yea like I usually plan anything). I had planned to write my poetry story (some thing she had asked[as well as a sonnet coming miss BB]), ya know like, well wait I guess ya don’t know, anyway the point is not like this…but well, here’s the deal, and those of you who I follow and comment on yer posts will easily back me on this….My comments and/or replys can often at times ramble on…sometimes longer than the original posts I am commenting on…oh it is to laugh…Anyway the point is that at some point, as the reply stretched on I realized that I was practically telling my poetry story right then and there, and though I’d promised to say it quickly…I’ll wait till yer done laughing…of course like always I was quickly easily topping 5oo words…
So, instead I decided to firstly, not post another long reply on this poor Gal’s Blog, (really ya gotta go and read not only this specific posts, but her other posts regarding writing, her poetry and…hell just become one of her followers you won’t regret it [I mean, Five Minute Dance Party alone often makes my day(I mean not this one but often)])…but, and again as usual, anyway…secondarily, this is a great chance to not only tell my poetry story, but explain some of what I have learned about what I have ended up (somehow unknowingly) attempting to accomplish with this weird writing style I have (somehow) accidentally (on purpose)found myself trying to write with and you the reader ending up left to puzzle over….and you should see the first draft sentences….
Anyway, and so okay her we go…the following was my reply, in my own particularly peculiar way…
B.B-Bukowski of course was a huge inspiration fer me especially when it came to “finding” my own poetry voice…mmm…tryin to figure out how to say this quickly…weird-o kid, 
dreamer, good fer nuthin, had a bad(?) family/home life, left home ran the streets, into weirdo arts etc (mostly writing poems, plays, lame early teens despair and darkness stuff lol)…But I didn’t read books outside of school…which was limited to short fiction and poetry, so no novels at all…(I had read earlier, as a little boy, Tom Sawyer etc…I especially remember loving the Hardy Boys). But I was too cool to read books(actually if you read my earliest post[links added above not part of original reply obviously] you can see I was trying to look tough more than be cool), in my experience, little boy units who are programmed to like reading got their asses whooped. please no “so sorry’s”, water under a long passed bridge. I laugh about it now.
Okay, so late teens early twenty’s By this time I had been in theater(all H.S. and) first year of college,making underground(deep, deep) arty (unintelligible, pretentious or sometimes both) films with friends, still mostly homeless, a 
father, and was in was in a variety of punk bands (writing and singing)I bumped into a guy who gives me a Kurt Vonnegut book…”Cat’s Cradle” still one of my favorite writers to reread. Then came the beats but most importantly Kerouac…reading 
“On The Road” changed my whole idea of who I was…even though we were temporally, of course, years apart I felt a real kinship to whatever the particular variety of madness he suffered from….”On the Road” was my “Catcher in the Rye” so to speak
The next big author fer me was of course HST, like Vonnegut and Kerouac before him I read everything he had published in a few short months. Okay whoops major bullshit alert, Freudian omission whatever, I have not read everything that any of the above authors have written….there is a distinct example of how someone can become a victim of their own bullshit…oh it is to laugh…I know I have made that statement more than once sitting around with other arty pretentious bastards each trying to out cool each other…(and it is a perfect example of what I rant about all the time; the difference between a truth and the truth)…Anyway like take Vonnegut fer instance, I do not think I finished “God Bless you Mrs Rosewater”, I don’t remember why (this must have been early 80′s remember) but more than likely it bored me somehow. I distinctly remember not liking “Welcome to the Monkey House” that much either….I liked Kerouac s prose, but hardly remember reading much of his poetry…but there have been a hell of a lot of drugs between here and there and so maybe I’ve jes fergotten that I have read them…L and his fabulous o l’s,
And then as I was giving up on the punk “rich rock star dieing young of an overdose” dream I first discovered the poetry scene in LA about 87 maybe 88, I was still homeless then, but turning up at these events, and having heard some of my stuff (again my old punk songs turned into not so good poems,) an older poet suggested I read Bukowski…I have now read much of his work (more his poetry than prose (through the early nineties) but I began to feel as I often do that (but especially with C.B.) his style, his voice was beginning to bleed into mine or compromise my…now don’t laugh…”artistic integrity”…in reality BB you are far more of a craftsman than me regarding the actual process of writing prose. Like with the eclipses issue (lol, originally I think it was simply me doing ya know…hmmm…punk stuff…anti stuff) Often I do or think first and, usually through some sort of secondary process (such as discussing why I don’t use punctuation in poetry with yer lovely self in this case) understand the truth of the thing after…
So that’s about where I stopped Dude’s and Dudette’s…I mean that wasn’t the end…that’s where I realized that I had really only briefly talked about poetry, let alone attempted to clarify some of the odder statements I had made already….but I was well on my way to another long ass rambling semi coherent reply…I mean look here I am well over a thousand words already so I am going to split it up as I often am wont to do…
I probably won’t get Pt. 2 posted till late tonight, cause I’m sure you’ll all be waiting by yer computers (plus Chapter 15 [find out what happens between Val & Mac]is edited and, c.m.f. ready to be posted)’cause i got laundry to do before Lil Mouse gets home.(jes don’t tell anyone I do laundry, it will ruin my tough guy male chauvinist asshole image that I am so carefully crafting)
In part two I will (I promise) talk strictly ’bout poetry, at least at first, I hope, then a bit about my attempts at prose including here on WP, then I will try to wrap up the post with clarifications ( hopefully answering the hows they came abouts?[and whys' ya keepin ons?])discussions of style content etc of my other writings here on Word Press…including my lonely little “nice” Blog (shameless self promotion I know) “Random Rite’s & Wrongs”…wow okay reading that it seems just a smidge of an over reach to think I can get that all in one post…
Until ya see me tryin then, keep it dysfunctional
Kreative Blogger Award Pt. 3
May 4, 2012
Creativity, like pornography, is hard to quantify. What makes something or someone creative? Is there a certain number of things, a certain style? Is writing more creative than cooking? Painting more creative than photography? Well I’m the hell not gonna answer any of those questions here so…
I feel like I am ten days behind and I am determined to get this post finished. I am sure I am way off the beaten path compared to the average functional unit’s KBA post but…well you know
Regarding the above, no further up…no all the way at the top. I jes wanna make it clear, creativity is whatever I decide it is, because like pornography, it’s in the eye of the beholder….
So behold bastards my Kreative Blogger Award nominees..
BlueBird Blvd…
I think Bluebird’s one of the most talented individuals on WP, she certainly is one of the most positive and most fun. Not a lot of controverial subjects, jes mostly gettin’ yer groove on, or groovin on some excellent Kreative Bloggin Action. Bluebird has more than one post, as do I as do many of you. Five minute dance party, not to be missed if you’ve been missin it, not only helps ya expand yer musical consciousness, it will exopand yer musical knowledge as Bluebird’s musical choices range farther off the beaten path than my own, and f-in a. Cat’s and Kittens thats sayin somethin….
Now in case that isn’t impressive enough the girl writes some kick as funny, feel good posts, photography and poetry including excellent sonnets….
A Kreative Kitten and that’s why she leads off the list of nominees
Okay the next one I’m gonna write in the form of a letter
Dear Random
I know that you like musicals and I like Ol timey American values. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find common ground, take this fer instance
See we both liked that…and ya know if you and I can find common ground here on word press why, jes think what else can be acheiv…okay well ya get it I’m sure.
Also I jes wanted to spotlight yer blog again. Love yer whole idea, the concept and am often thinking up my own random letters (usually featuring cut out magazine words pasted on lined paper). Yer posts are well written, short (I don’t even know how you do that?) and oft times feature a good measure of hilariosity, so I think ya will garner a bigger following. Hopefully me giving you this award helps (more than it hurts)
Love
Dysfunctional
See now wasn’t that nice, okay, but I mean, I guess, why shouldn’t it be nice, were you expecting it too be mean? What? No. honestly and even if I knew all the nominees names apart from their online persona I am not sure I would reveal them. Names are kind’a private. In fact some ancient cultures use to give very specific inherent powers to names, naming, and the knowing of names. Maybe not so funny how, now we end up here at The Blog of Funny Names, where this ancient powerful art is mocked without mercy, and regularly offers up sacrifices in order to dispel the unholy power of names. The following are only a smattering of the fun and frolic available
- Majestic Mapp & his younger brother Scientific Mapp
- Outerbridge Horsey
- Fearne Cotton
- Lesane Parrich Crooks (whos that? oh yea) Tupak Shakur
And My Favorite
-
Calvin Coolidge Julius Caesar Tuskahoma McLish
And okay well yea that was over the top so lets come back to down town Sweetsville, with a blog I’ve only discovered recently, but her poetry, words, art, are delicate creations. There are a lot of excellent poets on WordPress this lady happens to be one of them.
Cutpurse Flightat Redwater Ramblings
Each in bird a hive to grow,
to tell of quiets lest profound,
to make the bee-buzz brim,
that,
waft-like swoon of beak to bulb, a brief repast,
in ground, inside; an inescapable palette
that,
even as the white bloom of flies
in saffron beds, be bold be, of the bee
dear bird,
you swivel, darling, there above the yew;
in a field that swells with the burst of grain,
dipped and then green after a week of un-taste.
We bow,
we bow,
below we bow –
blest be you for cutpurse flight.
I saved my last nominee (yea short list wanna make sumpin of it[okay so I'm tryin not to smoke you bastards, lol, I may be a tad crankilish]) fer one of my new favorites…0nlyspartanwoman’s blog is a must read for people 
from all sides of the political spectrum (not that she is inherently or often annoyingly overtly political like some bloggers that we know [is he talking to me?]) But she not only writes about her and shares some of her own experiences while serving in the military, she is married to a fellow she met while serving overseas, so she can gain from and shares his points of view as well. And you’d think well hell, that’s a lot to bring to the table it’s great, I can’t wait to read it, she is giving all she can give…but, oh I mean, you’d be far from correct…So Listen Up ’cause she connects and brings other military personals viewpoints to you, she brings interesting facets of and about military life to the for front that you (and I know I) may not have considered or even known about before. And it is then that you’d think man, this kicks ass, well written informative opinion filled, topical it can’t possibly get better…well that jes shows ya don’t learn quickly brother ’cause she writes poetry and fiction as well so how do you like them rock ‘em sock’ robots…
I have commented on a number of her posts and hopefully I have never said anything disrespectful or ignorant(lol I’m sure as a dysu civilian I have not succeeded in this one) as I only have the deepest respect fer anyone who has done what she and her husband have done, risked their lives fer an ideal, it is better and closer to being truly alive and real than many of us will ever feel. Though the following seems to be debated on the net as to the “Offspring’s” original intent, I am taking it as they wrote it (and as I believed when I first heard it) a kick ass tribute song.
Fer Her and all the others I offer this up as a tribute,
Camouflage and guns,
Risk my life
To keep my people from harm
Authority,
Vested in me
I sacrifice
With my brothers in arms
Through this doorway,
What’s on the other side?
Never knowing
Exactly what I’ll find
Locked and loaded
Voices screaming
Let’s go!
Come on do it!
Here we go
I’ll take a life
That others may live
Oh that’s just the way it goes
I’ll shut my eyes
It hammers in my head
Where it’ll end
Nobody knows
I’ll take a life
That others may live
Oh that’s just the way it goes
It’s playing over and over in my head
Where it’ll end
Nobody knows
Stay the course
Reasonable force
I believe I serve a greater good
Smoke and dust
Enemies are crushed
Nothing left
Where a man once stood
Through this doorway,
What’s on the other side?
Never knowing
Exactly what I’ll find
Locked and loaded,
Voices screaming
Let’s go
I’m just doing what I’m told
I’ll take a life
That others may live
Oh that’s just the way it goes
Shut my eyes
It hammers in my head
Where it’ll end
Nobody knows
I’ll take this life
Ten others may live
Oh that’s just the way it goes
It’s playing over and over in my head
Where it begins
And where it’ll end
Nobody knows
Bang, bang, It hammers in my head!
Bang, bang, It hammers in my head!
Bang, bang, It hammers in my head!
In my head
In my head
Yea though I walk to the through the valley of the
Shadow of death, I will fear no evil:
For Thou art with me
Locked and loaded
Gonna find my truth now
I’m busting through
All hell breaks loose
And you can all hide behind your desks now
And you can cry ‘teacher come help me! ‘
Through you all
My aim is true!
My aim is true!
My aim is true!
Kreative Blogger Award Part 1
April 30, 2012
Oh it is to laugh Cat’s & kittens…hey it’s me yer ol friend the Dysfunctional Unit…and ya know I’ d been working on this Kreative Blogger video fer about a week kept tweaking it, never quite happy, all the while, in the mean time 
of course, continuing to write other crap, continue to be plagued and haunted by shit I hear comin out my TV while I sit here tap, tap ,tappin away…
Anyway so I was startin a new post about some crazy ass shit…and well if you’ll bear with me let me lay it out this way…
See I’ve noticed three particular trends lately.
First separate and beyond the recent Trayvon Martin shooting there has been a tremendous amount of news lately focusing on race relations and even more so on how African Americans still deal with tremendous social pressures up to and including killings, at the hands of white people. Over the last three episodes of “Sunday Morning” on CBS, we have carefully reexamined the Rodney King LA incident (I know, I know, it was the ten year anniversary) as well as almost other news programs on all other channels, and the definite intention of all this attention has been to relate it to Trayvon and to remind white people they are inherently racist and other African Americans that whitey still wants to keep them, at best, bound to a life of abject servitude.
O-merica's Favorite Bully
Next this whole bullying phenomenon, I mean not a somehow vast increase in bullying (though I have seen studies lol)…I mean this constant discussion of bullying, the media focus, the movie, just the word repeated over and over again, bullying, bullying, bullying…Why…I mean okay I know I know, it’s fer the chil’ren, jes wanna protect the chil’ren…okay bear with me here oh most astute and diligent reader, I’ll tie it altogether in my own inimitable fashion…
Lastly and of course not leastly is the whole OWS group and their supporters, including the media which continues a relentless anti capitalist, anti corporate (which of course makes my little dog spin because aren’t media conglomerates capitalistic corporations)anti bank, gas companies, stock market, and rich white conservative, campaign…
See here’s what happens I begin to hear…inklings…random feedback comin from many different sources…..my lil dog spins round and round chasin these various “firefly” ideas yippin and yappin…it’s jes that once in awhile he catches one and comes up with somethin’
Here’s what I’ve come up with…Trayvon Martin…Rodney King…all the attention…it is to remind white American that we still are a racist bunch of bastards (and bitches excuse me ladies fer leavin you out, though most assuredly [if you are not already planning to vote for the Pres] this “campaign” is designed to sway you) , to make many of us feel guilty, maybe, jes maybe it will be enough to sway a number of middle of the road voters over to President Obama’s side in the upcoming election…
During the campaign, when ever the Presidents record or lack of accomplishments, or failure to solve the nations problems are being used against him in debates, in conservative medias, or in new countless social media forums, they are going to claim that the other side (of course I mean the mean spirited rich environment, old folk, kid, race hating republicans are just bullies…they’re all just bullies. Bullying poor President Obama, after all none of this is his fault, his or his parties fault, it is Bush, Bush and his evil henchmen that have caused so much trouble with their illegal wars and i mean if it wasn’t fro Pres Obama, his leadership and firm guidance of course we would be so much worse off. And to suggest other wise is just bullying and you know it…
And ya know, if that doesn’t work well…I mean the whole system must be broken, if somehow a republican wins that means the banks and evil corporations have somehow rigged the election, screwing the black man once again and bullying the American people and hell if the OWS and all of their support groups are gonna take that…it will be time for action my brothers, time to take to the streets, and strike at the “man”, or any near by white person as an acceptable stand in…Rioting, looting, death and…martial law? (I readily admit that this idea is not fully, or originally mine but is a common theme in conservative media that I have adapted in my dysfunctional way)
It is like a blue print put forward by a community organizer (activist/instigator depending I guess). Now who do we know that fits that role…Okay well I’m of 
course being rhetorical….but here’s where I guess it fits in with the whole kreative blogger award…
See like I was workin on somethin completely different (and not quite gettin it right due to my ideas and attempts beginning to outpace both my abilities and the software’s lol) but this morning. hearing these three subjects addressed first on Sunday Morning, then on “Face the Nation” (Please Bob retire already) suddenly the whole picture came together in my mind and I jumped up from the computer and began to ramblerant the whole thing to Lil’ Mouse who was trying to watch the latest episode of Ricky Gervais on HBO (go Karl!).
Cr:Google Images, Ricky Gervais Show, HBO-larious
Cred:Google images
I had to get ready for work, knew I needed to at least start the draft (so I wouldn’t ferget the whole thing by the time I got home) so I was trying to give her just the basic jist of my idea…
After about two and a half minutes she looked at me and said oh so sweetly “You should use that for your kreative blogger award, ’cause it is certainly took some creative thinking to come up with.”
She, in her own special loving way meant it sarcastically of course, but to my dysfunctional brain it was like I saw the whole thing suddenly so perfectly that I sat down and wrote the meat of this post in about five minutes (usually my posts might take a day or two to compose lol).
Anyway of course, here I am now late on Sunday night, tryin like hell to wrap up what has become now ‘Part 1‘ of my Kreative Blogger Award post but still feeling positive about my strange theory on these three seemingly disparate (premeditatively generated?) social obsessions and my acknowledgement, that as Lil Mouse pointed out as far as the dysu posts are concerned, this is my most oft exhibited kreative ability…oh it is to laugh…
Remember I am not stating that I am right that this is going to happen, only that the possibility of these being linked can be logically argued given the fully acknowledged end desires and the extremely capable abilities of the President and his re-election staff, his appointees, advisers and supporters in this “game(of thrones[HBO])”.
If not for the fact that there are times I am right in these mad prognostications (one of the reasons I decide to start this blog) or for the fact that I feel pretty confident about my reasoning on at least two of the three (I’ll leave it to you to guess which)
And of course it is now early Monday, I need to be up in a little over five hours, and I will need at least an hour to relax and come down after finally gettin this posted (lolsidc) but f n’ a everyone I believe part 1 is done…
I will continue with part two where I nominate my seven pics fer Kreative Blogger…
Oh yea and reveal seven-ish things you maybe surprised to learn about me…
the Dysfunctional Unit
Great Scott America
April 17, 2012
Well okay..well..I mean F ‘n A everybody so I’ve written a lot about the state of our Federal Government, I mean probably only a little less than I have written about how women are ruining America (“Wha…wha…wha…what?”
you the reader ask…look I don’t have time to go back and re cover every crazy thing I have ever said…go back here and look it up…today I got bigger fish on my mind…today I’m kind’a pissed off…
Look so by now if you are paying any attention at all you know that the General Services Administration or GSA just spent a whopping $8000,000 (+) on planning and vacation(s) fer 300 
employee’s….that’s the easy breezy cover girl version tryin to review all the different facets, facts, well in the long run it just made me too pissed off to continue…and then of course my little dog starts spinning and I start looking up all this info on the fed.gov websites and I read all the new age hoo doo ass bullshit and my little dog spins round and round(here’s where Lil’ Mouse usually tells me “to just stop lookin’”) and well…well…well it is to laugh really.
Cause I know nothin’s gonna change…oh some of us will get mad and blog about it(most of course, much more professionally than the ol Dysu)…there will be investigations (themselves well topping the 800,000 price tag of the VV.) Some heads will roll, careers cut short (or in some cases just diverted)…but the system itself, the great and mighty machine will keep rollin along…
See ’cause ya know what else I know is that we got just a small glimpse, a peek behind the curtain, but thank God we did, and in this instance thank God fer Social Media, the magicians keep F’n up because of social media, the slight of hand is hard to pull off when you keep posting gloating pictures of how you fleeced the marks
Credited to http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/politics
But of course I digress ’cause my real point is so the F what? So what if they did? And I’m sure ol’ smiley in the tub here is thinkin’ the same thing, I mean it wasn’t but six months or so that we were hearin’ this story
House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi is the subject of a report on the stock investments of members of Congress that is to air Sunday on CBS’ “60 Minutes.”…
I know, I know old news, the worlds movin’ too fast, too fast to keep up and hell there’s so only so much time and I mean after all there’s all those HBO programs to keep up with, and isn’t Charlie Sheen gettin a new sitcom…
That’s what I mean by nothin’s gonna change. And there was a brief moment a year or two back when I first heard about the Tea Party…”Yea, here we go” I thought, but go to their website and all you see is talk about working with-in the system to change it…oh ho ho…oh it is to laugh….
I think the idea started good, but it was co-opted by politicios…okay what do I mean…Go look at their site…lot’s of talk, little action..okay again I guess clarification..
Better yet, here’s what I propose, tax revolt, we all go into our boss, or accountant(s) and claim all the dependents we can, then when tax time comes next year don’t fill out one document, let April 15th come and go without feelin’ bad or worryin. Every time you do start to feel a twang of guilt just picture this guy again
Live a little! I did!
And yea, that might not work fer yer situation, I mean normally I get a refund so that’s the way I could do it but, you might be in a higher tax bracket than me (lol like that would be hard) what I mean is if enough of us say ya know what we ain’t paying anymore till you get yer crap together well what are they gonna do, jail a million people, jail ten million people…now that’s a Tea Party Movement I can get behind
Wait I’m sorry what…What about the roads? What about old people? What about the poor? Well what I believe is we’re Americans, we can figure it out without the help of the money wasters in Washington ( I mean not me but one of you out there, ya don’t want me in charge, I’m no better at making important decision than obviously most of our government officials). I mean it’s coming my fellow Americans the pace of growth by our federal government is fiscally unsustainable. I may not be good at practical application of these concepts, but I understand them quite well…and well ya know I know, and I hope I’m not throwin off yer good mood fer later when you sit down to watch “Two Broke Girls” or what the fuck ever…I mean I hate ta bring this shit up…
Oh no…that’s right…I love to bring this shit up
Okay well now I know I’m just being unfair, the thing is probably quite large percentage of WP writers may fall into the arty weirdo I just barely can hold a real job category (as compared to the population at large say), but if 
you hold a good job, or have held any job for a long period of time (and here I mean a real job, not a job in a record store, tattoo parlor, software development firm) yer belief that you are an arty oddball is only in your head…and to join with our media driven modern culture promoting the arty oddball loser, the ghetto thug, the overindulged rock or sports celebrity as pinnacles of cultural achievement (so you seem cool to your sheep like friends who are also pretending to be cool) is only hurting the country not helping it…
Here’s one good way to know what kind’a person you are, help you define yerself(separate from your employment)…Do you like Lady Gaga, think she is all that as it were…think she is arty and edgy?…If so, listen up, you are a worker bee, you should take off the weird make-up, yer lame thrift store concocted moon outfit and get the f back to work…you are neither arty or edgy, what you are is easily led, you are the type of person who should be working mainly in the service industry like say selling cosmetics at JC Penny or behind the counter at a fast food joint…
Devoid & Most Likely Unemployed
Do you consider yerself kick ass cool, do you listen to a: Only Metal or b. Only Gangsta Rap…
If yer answer was a: Only Metal, and you think yer a bad ass, more than likely you don’t have a job,. If you do then you are most probably a white, factory automotive, manufacturing or other blue collar worker.
If you answered band you think yer a bad ass it’s even more likely that you don’t have a job, but that if you do you fall in to the same as above category except: either way you
Annoyed & Definitely Unemployed
are more than 90% likely to be black, (exception to this, thirty something white collar office workers who on Saturday night out with the bros, like to relive their suburban high school gangsta days).
None of you are truly bad asses, especially you office workers, so stop promoting and supporting gansta culture, cause though you can separate your thoughts and your behaviors, a lot of kids growing up can’t, they buy into, they believe this shit….some kids, when you tell them to tune in turn on and drop out (I know, I know, too old school) actually do…
That’s why there is a definite exception to this rule, some of the “bad asses” are actually, really, bad asses, they’re not gonna hold jobs, don’t wanna hold jobs, (better to die on yer feet, than live on yer knees, etc, etc…)and ya know, these true rebels living outside of society, but yet functioning within strict guidelines all their own, I understand them , better than I understand most of you…
You…in fact reading this blog are most likely a fan of Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Katie Perry, Madonna (still?)or Justin Bieber, maybe even Maroon Five (guilty pleasure right).
A fan of The Voice, The View, The Talk, The Walk, alright I made that last one up is the point is, you probably are white, female, work in an office, possibly in human resources, maybe in health care, or an Elementary school teacher, you also, most likely like to think you are still edgy…
Yer about as edgy as yer motto…(and ya know how much I love to mock this one Cat’s & Kittens)…Live, Laugh, Love, which along with yer edgy mission statement, Live like no one is watching…no wait it’s Laugh like there’s no tomorrow…no crap…Dance till it hurts…oh well ya know the one….
Listen and I hate to break it to you, but yer not even remotely close to the town where edgy once lived some years back now….
I know that I’ve gone way off the beaten track here, way deep into unexplored territory through this three part extravaganza…but why, what have I been trying to say….no I mean really…What the hell have I been trying to say?
Oh yea thanks, when I am talking about culture and responsibility, you have to remember that fer some of us, it is our responsibility to be the intellectuals, the artists, the weirdo deviants, I’m okay with all that, but we are supposed to be small sub cultures, not the culture at large..that’s my point, that’s my only point…I don’t want the rest of the country to behave like me…like with my own children I want society to be better than the worst among us.
Yet here we are every day every body tryin to out media-fy, hell out socialnetworka-fy each other in an never ending self pleasuring dysfunctional cycle of shocking over indulgence and staged guilt…
Misfit to Mister & Back Again…Those Who Can’t Do Teach Pt II
April 11, 2012
All right so here we are back again…and as good as any a place to start is when I left the land of Oz for the frozen north, October of 1994 I was determined to learn to be a good worker bee, I had two small kids (already had messed up and lost custody and relinquished visitation for my first son). I put
my worker cap on, belittled and beat myself up (like a drill instructor would have[only I was doing it too myself at age 34] and was much crueler given I knew all my own weakness and foibles).
I barely pulled it off at first, but with steady application and try and try again mentality (okay so no punching other employees at work…check) After a few years I was doing pretty good, I had trained myself to be, at least fer however many hours a day you were willing to pay me, a good responsible person. (remember I was nearing forty at this point)
Now this is back some years, Ex 1 was still in the picture, but though I’d learned to behave at work, in my private life I was still pretty much one of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys…Is it any wonder then at some point she left with the kids (temporarily) back to Mom, back to Oz…
Well okay that was a wake up call, I still had work to do. I pulled up my boots, pulled up ‘em up tight, then pulled up ‘em up even tighter cinched ‘em with drawstring and wrapped the whole thing in duct tape. I worked harder, worked better, lived better (almost all my bad behaviors had been conquered[almost Cat's n' Kittens but we're gettin to that*])…
I actually ended up in a professional job, a real job, had my own office with my name and title on my door (in order to accomplish this, to get this far, I had to, in essence, kill the other “me”, the weirdo artist, so that I could not only put away want and focus on need, but fit in with the “normies” [who incidentally almost all viewed themselves as weirdo artist types]) and continue to be employed. I was making real money, and working 50 hours or more a week…
I only pulled this high a level of employment though for a short time, and only because I had an excellent, understanding boss…I am a dysfunctional unit, but I have learned to explain that (hopefully in a way each new
Dizzying Heights of Success
employers understands). This boss worked very well with me and allowed me a wide latitude of odd behaviors* lol (singing out loud, foul language)
However like any unit worth his weight in dysfunctions, I eventually cracked*, the carefully constructed new unit I had become, though well polished in almost every visble aspect, still held the same original flaws.
Though I could see, know, and understand how to behave, I was not very good at actually doing. I was certainly never going to be able to reach and achieve the sort of level of normalcy you need to be successful in this land of winners…it was too late fer me(if I’d ever even stood a chance at all)…I’d started training myself far too late, things I was learning at thirty-five I should have been learning at thirteen…
In this last cracking, oh some five years ago now, I lost everything, for a second time..lol…second wife, second house…oh it is to laugh
But don’t get me wrong, this last time I stood at the edge of the cliff of responsibility and jumped off..After fourteen years or so of trying I realized either the above was true, a:I’d started too late, or b: in whatever way it was that I was dysFUNctional, it doomed or fated me to behaving irresponsibly (left turns)and doomed (or fated or whatever) me to be the unit I was and, either way, or both together didn’t matter, I had to accept it….
Now I don’t know any of you, my smart and oh so intelligent readers, personally, but I’ll bet a good chunk of you think “that’s me”
But and while I’m not judging you, and it very well may be true…
