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*

Im a buy me a gun as big as my arm..............

A hat should be taken off when you greet a lady and left off for the rest of your life. Nothing looks more stuid than a hat.
- P.J. O'Rourke

So.................I haven't updated this blog in a while. Mostly because every waking hour of mine is spent on a navy base, completely isolated from the civilian ("real") world, and so any story I tell no matter how hilarious to me and my fellow sailors and marines will probably take about 8 pages worth of explanation, general military training, and a multiple choice test just to be halfway coherent to a civilian, much less funny in any way. So as a solution...........I just don't post at all.

But, I have readers. People actually read this piece of shit. And they asked that I update it. With stories from the Navy. Then I realized that pretty much everything that happens here is ridiculous and worth telling SOMEbody. I don't know if some of the old readers/fans of this blog will stick around, but you know what all the old folks say, if you love something, you gotta let it go. If it comes back to you................then that shit was just unnecessary. A complete waste of time. I think that's how the old saying goes. Ah the wisdom of the elderly.

So hey, let's start with this.

I live in a Navy barracks. They're all named after real ships. I live in the "USS Theodore Roosevelt", a.k.a. "The Big Stick", which makes it pretty uncomfortable when you're on watch and someone requests to "hop on the big stick".

My roommate is a backwoods redneck runaway from Kentucky named Daniel McDaniel. That's his real name. The dude literally joined the Navy cuz he was homeless. He's single and has no family or bills, his whole paycheck is play money. He has no idea what to do with it. Nevermind starting a savings plan, he's spent hundreds of dollars on Conway Twitty box sets. One time I came back to the room and he was sitting in the middle of the floor with hundreds of dollars worth of gold dollar coins in front of him, and he goes "Look man! You go to the candy machine and put a dollar bill in, and it gives ya one a these! Isn't it great?" He bankrupted the change machine, you put a $10 bill in and it gives you all quarters now. Another time I came back from school and he was sleeping curled up fetal position on top of his desk. Two inches from his bed. Even when he does sleep on his bed, he doesn't use a pillow. I happen to have two pillows cuz they gave me an extra one when I came from boot camp, but I only use one so I constantly offer to give him the other one. He always refuses.........but then complains to people that they won't give him a pillow to sleep with. We had room inspections today, and while standing at attention with the inspectors right next door about to come to our room, I smell something burning. Daniel McDaniel has a lighter and he's burning the inside of his trouser pockets. A couple weeks ago he ordered a $500 laptop on Ebay, just "to see what it all the fuss is about with this internet junk." This is a kid who has never had a computer or access to one. It came in the mail today. He's spent the last 5 hours straight looking at porn. Lesbian porn, piss fetish, big black cocks in little white milfs............it's like the scene in 2001 where the neanderthals find the bone. Doors are opening for young Daniel McDaniel. I just found out today that his middle name is Wayne. Daniel Wayne McDaniel. Like all budding young serial killers, he'll probably start with small animals, work his way up to hobos and hookers, and then eventually..............roommates. This is basically my goodbye letter. Print this out and send it to the police if I stop posting for a while.

Leave behind some green-eyed look-a-likes..........

My daughter goes crazy anytime "Single Ladies" comes on. Literally crazy. She can't even walk yet but she clearly tries to copy dance moves from that video. We have it on tape. She cries if someone changes the channel, and I've seen the great abyss of eternal darkness in her eyes if you're so rude as to talk during her theme song. It's like living in that twilight episode where the kid with magic powers controls the whole town. She just turned 1 last week. When I get mad at her for doing something bad, she kisses me. She's a lot like her mother.

My son on the other hand loves the Fleet Foxes album, probably because I forced it on him and everyone else in my life in 2008, but regardless........he legitimately loves it, and has commented many times on the empyrean CrosbyStillsNash-ian (his word) harmonies and poetic lyricism. I might have made that last part up. He's just 2 years old, but either way I have a feeling we'll still be talkin' about "blue ridge mountains" when he's 42. It's one of those. He also can count to 10 and wakes me up at 5 in the morning to take walks for no apparent reason. Earlier today I pointed out a bird in a tree and he said "Get down here bird, I'm gonna eat you!" I'm very proud of him.

When I run miles on the track everyday to get ready for boot camp and I feel like I can't go any farther, I just say their names over and over until I'm done. In 7 days, I'm leaving both of them for 6 months.

Anybody got a gun? Anybody? No? Thanks anyway. I'll be fine. Probably not.

Blow thru ya hair, seabreeze, sticks and shit..........

I've had a fade haircut of one kind or another since I was 12. Bald, razor, southside, and of course as I got older and wiser, tapered. One way or another, for as long as I can remember my hair has never been longer than maybe an inch-and-a-half, which by the way has helped me out many times in the past because it turns out it's way less than what a drunk person would need to grab in a fight (or as I like to call it, "hate handles"). So when I moved out to Florida for these two months before Navy boot camp, my wife says, she says to me one day she says, "Why don't you just grow your hair out? They're gonna cut it for you when you go to boot camp anyway. And besides, it ain't like you have anybody to look cool for out here, nobody knows you." I nodded in agreement and said, "Yes, you're right baby, I AM the coolest person out here."

She said that's not what she meant.......but I know she was just being polite because all her uncool relatives were in the room at the time. She's such a kind soul.

So now it's 2 months later, and my hair looks like a cross between Corey Feldman in the Goonies, and Ian Curtis around the 5th hour of swinging from the noose. It's pretty sweet. And by sweet, I mean chaotic and embarrassing for everyone involved. It's the MTV music awards of haircuts. It's the Nick Nolte's haircut of haircuts. They say you only get one chance to make a first impression, and if that's true then I'm pretty sure there's at least 10 people down here whose first impression of me is that I live in a trailer with my shut-in "big mama" who only cuts my hair on the two most important holidays: Easter, and the anniversary of Ronnie Van Zant's plane crash.

Point being: I look ridiculous. If I wasn't me I'd tell myself, hey..........knock it off. You look ridiculous. But somehow still unbelievably attractive. I wish I was you.

The only question left is what to do with all the hair once they cut it off. They usually just throw it away, but seeing as how I'm a famous local rapper and philanthropist, they obviously won't be mixing my hair with all the "normals". In all likelihood they'll gently place it in a box with bubble wrap and hide it in a combination safe of some kind. But what next? I'm way too humble to be so selfish as to keep it to myself, so what lucky soul will be the new owner of my thinkin' cap jacket?

I'm thinking the only fair way is to set up some sort of nationwide lottery system. What do ya'll think?


Here's this too................between this Sia performance, and the TV on the Radio "Wolf Like Me" fiasco from a couple years ago, I'm beginning to think they slip the artists somethin' in the water in the green room there at the Letterman show. Just wow.