Something I had to write down............

We found a small restaurant named after a woman, and sat as the sun found shape over the reddish highland mesas, stacked like stone idols from early evolution. Inside my young mind it raised grand and violent scenes of cowboys and raiders clashing and dying on the new mexico desert sandscape, the sky twisting with electric pink so brilliant it burnt the senses.

Nobody puts baby in a coffin!

My friend: "Man I can't believe Patrick Swayze is dead."

Me: "RIP to the best damn cooler in the business."

My friend: "Roadhouse! Awesome. Honestly that was the only thing I liked him in."

Me: "Wow. So you don't like your mom?"

My friend: *look of disgust and hatred*

Me: "I'm just sayin'. That's kinda messed up man. She's still your mother, no matter what she did in the past."

My friend: "You're an idiot."

Me: "You're just mad cuz Uncle Pat is gone and he never took you to the park like he promised. It's ok man, work all those emotions out, I'm here for you. This is good. This is good."

My friend: "This joke is going on way too long."

Me: "DON'T YOU THINK I'M AWARE OF THAT!"

Diggin In The Crates...........

Me and two friends from the barracks were bored today and decided to take a field trip to one of the 3 amazing flea markets here in Pensacola. I should clarify that I judge whether a flea market is amazing or not solely based on how many pit bull fights I see in between booths of fake Jordans and throwing stars.

Anytime I go to a flea market, I play a game. I call it the "let's see how much goofy shit we can buy for under $3". I should probably shorten that name if I want the game to get popular. Nonetheless, I spent a grand total of 50 US cents today, and bought two great items.

The first one isn't that goofy, actually. It was a copy of The Federalist Papers. Because when I think of Florida swamp-swimmin' rednecks renting booths in a dirt lot to sell things they think their peers will enjoy, I usually expect to walk out with at least one classic of political theory. At the very least.



So that was one quarter down. We walked around for a while. Some guy tried to sell me a homemade paddle for $2, telling me "trust me man it works", which to me implies that you're tryin' to sell me somethin' that touched your ass. No thanks.

The next booth that caught our eyes was owned by a guy who kinda looked like Newman from Seinfeld, if he was even fatter and wrapped in an indian blanket. He was basically selling comic books, but many other things were up for grabs as well, ranging from samurai swords to homemade aloe vera to decades-old trading cards. We're talkin' Alf cards, Garbage Pail Kids, etc. While the date on some of these cards alone would have been enough to make me throw down some change, I was lookin' for something a little more...........rare. And ridiculously cheesy. Didn't take long for me to find that. My next quarter went to these bad boys, circa 1990...............



Where to start. I'd like to think these were unpopular cards even for their time, but who knows the level of douchbaggery the culture was allowing to thrive 20 years ago. I was only 5, and not a very rad 5 year old at that, so you can't blame me. The cards are structured similar to Garbage Pail Kids, with only a fraction of the artistic value and none of the humor. Each one features a different "totally gnarly" character with a rhyming and/or alliterated name, usually performing some extreme sport or anti-social behavior, ie: radness. There's Messy Marty, the Bicep Brothers, and of course everyone's favorite..........Piggin' Out Owen. They didn't even try with that one.

Here's my favorite two, though, starting with..............


At first glance, it looks like two excited crackheads flaming up in a TigerMart bathroom. But no.........these are the "Cherry Bomb Dudes", and they're about to blow up a toilet. You'd think they would get tired of doing the same thing everyday, but when you name your gang after such a specific activity, your options are kinda limited. Little known fact: the guy on the right later became known as Congressman Ron Paul.

Without further ado, my favorite one by far.............Teasin' Toby.



Now, there's really only two possible scenarios here. Either some marketing guys at Pacific Trading Cards Inc thought, in their pursuit of radical activities with the most mass appeal, that kids loved teasing babies almost as much as half-pipe skateboarding. Or scenario two, possibly even more disturbing..............kids in 1990 really were teasin' the fuck outta babies, often enough for it to enter the world of stereotype. I have no idea which one is true, but I can't stop laughing everytime I look at Toby's face. Kids of all ages could just walk in and buy this over the counter with their blowpops and big league chew. I doubt they they were mentally equipped or prepared at all to understand even the more normal run-of-the-mill sexual fetishes, much less baby teasing. No wonder they all grew up and filmed themselves wearing diapers on "Porntube".

All in all, the day was a huge success. One of the guys who came with me found a comic book called "Red Son", which apparently is the story of what would happen if baby Superman had landed in Russia instead of America. On the cover, the S on his chest is replaced by a hammer and sickle. He paid $1 for this, mint condition. I was pretty jealous. The other guy didn't buy anything, and mostly was just confused at why we would "waste good money on bad things".

Yeah.............he has no idea what life is all about.

Roger f**king THAT

Dedicated, hooyah,
Motivated, hooyah,
GRADUATED HOOYAH!!!

Disclaimer: Pink Card does not = Air Traffic Controller. I still haven't talked to one real aircraft yet. That will happen about 3 weeks from now. Oh shit.

But it is a huge panty dropper. Why else would they call it a "pink" card? Because of the actual color of the card? I THINK NOT.

Wilde at heart..........

"Over the low roofs and jagged chimney stacks of the houses rose the black masts of ships. Wreaths of white mist clung like ghostly sails to the yards."

- Oscar Wilde, from the book The Picture of Dorian Gray


WOW! I've read these two lines so many times in the last week I've memorized them like song lyrics. Shoutout to Yudy, my lil' sister from Columbia, we went through boot camp together and she told me about this book I should read. She didn't remember the title or author, only the plot, and it really interested me. Going through the base library............which by the way doesn't even deserve to be called a library, it's more like a shelf warehouse that happens to have 13 random scattered books apparently for the sole purpose of holding the shelves steady............and by chance I came across this book, read the back and immediately checked it out. Wilde's style was hard to get into at first, so deep into british high society and all the effeminate males*, but the prose is amazing. And the story ended up being great too. The detriment to the soul a lifetime of a man giving into his own darkest pleasures and passions and seeking new ones for the sake of corruption itself, the dehumanization of making beauty your golden calf............hell, it'd be the great american novel if it was american. When I was done I wanted to read every single one of Wilde's novels. And I would have, if he had written any more after this one. Apparently he was a famous playwright or something, not a novelist. WHO KNEW?!! Hey, don't look down your noses at me, with your fancy english degrees and Ikea english degree holders made in Sweden that match your hardwood floors! You think you know everything?!? Go FUCK YOURSELF!

Speaking of books, now I'm reading God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Vonnegut. No effeminate males in his books, I'll tell ya that damn much, sports fans. Just a lotta real men, doing real men things.........like killing eachother over greed and power and generally acting like under-evolved homo-sapiens. I have no idea what point I just made.

*Being such a huge fan of music, literature, and film, I found out a long time ago that the first step to opening yourself up to ALL of the great stuff out there, is to get over your own hangups with masculinity/femininity. I know I had to. Just because you teared up at the end of The Times of Harvey Milk or think The Smiths make beautiful music, doesn't mean you like cock. It means you're an adult who can appreciate good art. The cock part is optional. Before Night Falls is, in my opinion, one of the best movies ever made, and that shit is gayer than your Uncle Tootie.

(Famous Dublin statue of Oscar Wilde "puttin' the vibe out")

I am secretly Alain Delon

It's raining outside and I'm listening to Charlie Parker. Somethin' about rain and jazz music makes me feel like I'm in a French new wave film, smoking a short cigarette outside a nightclub with Filipe who just got out of prison for smuggling diamonds. Sometimes I seriously wish I could go all out and dress like a character in a Jean Pierre Melville movie, and I swear to god I would if it was even a little bit acceptable. The problem is I would probably get my ass kicked by my own family and friends. I already left the hood to go to the Navy...........I mean, don't get me wrong, salty fleet sailors are some of the hardest knucklehead motherfuckers I've ever met, but if I go back home showin' my friends how to tie a neckerchief, they'd probably take my lunch money. They don't respect that. So I probably shouldn't add any more conflict onto that by goin' to Meadowbrooks projects in a grey inspector gadget raincoat, a brown tweed suit and a fedora. There wouldn't be enough croussants in the world to plug the bulletholes in my chest.

(Recent picture of Sandman outside of a Home Depot)

To Kill a Mockingperson............

SouthBound theater presents...........

My Saturday with Daniel McDaniel,

or

"The Lion, The Witch, and the sociopathic hill-dweller hiding in the wardrobe with a scope rifle"

A one act play

Cast:
Sandman as The Hero
Daniel McDaniel as Himself

The curtains open to a scene of two young sailors, roommates, sitting on their respective racks on a rainy saturday morning. They both pulled duty section all weekend, and are unable to leave the barracks, so they are forced to spend their time in the room with eachother. Our hero is browsing dead hip hop forums on his tiny, almost laughable laptop, while Daniel McDaniel is sitting in front of his own laptop, simultaneously playing a violent GTA-ish crime-spree video game and listening to 1950's country music. Let's join them now........

Sandman: "It's cold in here, right?"

Daniel: "Muuuuh"

*Daniel coldly shoots an old lady, her dying sreams make him smile*

Sandman: "You know, I have no problem with the music you like, or video games where you murder innocent people, but when you put them together............I'm not gonna lie, it's disturbing. Horrific actually. Nobody wants to be part of a mass murder with a Johnny Cash ballad background."

Daniel: "Gaaah. Sumbitch got away."

*Daniel pulls out a zippo and starts lighting his own thumb on fire*

Sandman: "You're gonna kill me one day, aren't you."

*Daniel comes across a helpless man, and mocks his cowardly cries for mercy*

Daniel: "Waaaah, I have a wife and kids! waaaah! Not anymore ya don't! BAM!! Huh? You were sayin' somethin' man?"

Sandman: "Yeah, actually I was gonna tell you I have a wife and kids, but obviously that doesn't work."

Daniel: "You're funny."

Sandman: ".............funny enough to live?"

Daniel: "Wha the hail r you ramblin' bout, brother?"

Sandman: "Dying. Death. You know I never went to Disneyland or had sex with an asian girl or submitted that short story to a contest like I always said I would? Never."

Daniel: "Wale shiat, ever body gotta die some sunny day."

Sandman: "Yeah..........yeah, I know. I don't really have a problem dealing with the fact that I'm gonna die one day, I just don't particularly like knowing who's gonna do it."

Daniel: "I 'member back when, way back me n Charlie had this horse."

Sandman: "Who's Charlie?"

Daniel: "Charlie got behind the horse to pet it, 'n the mean ol' bastard kicked 'im in the jaw. Charlie died. He dead still to this day, if you kin believe it. Won't be no more Charlie. So you know what I did? I took me up a tree stick and jabbed it in that ol' horse's eyeball. I surely did. It fell, and when it did I stomped on 'is head til he was like Charlie. Just like Charlie."

Sandman: "................."

Daniel: "Ya get what am tryin' to say?"

Sandman: "If that's what you would like, then yes. I completely understand and also agree."

Daniel: "You wanna see me burn somethin'?"

Sandman: "Are the walls getting closer to you?.......*pulls at collar*...........it's hard to breath in here. Why is it so hard to breath!?"

Daniel: "Sweeeeeet home A-la-Tucky"

Sandman: "That's definitely not how that song goes. But that's OK. It's a good song you made, Daniel. A good song."

*Daniel blushes and chews on an alfalfa leaf*

Daniel: "Aww it weren't nothin."


It certainly weren't, young Daniel..............it certainly weren't.

*close curtain*