doing it up, etc.

So yeah, I haven't updated this blog in a really long time. Granted, probably no one will ever read this. Still, I feel the need to type this out.

The past 5 months or so have been absolutely ridiculous in just about every way imaginable. I do indeed think that my increased drinking has contributed greatly to this. Everything just seems to be all out lately. Just go, go, go all of the time. I haven't gotten more than 5 hours sleep in a night in... probably a month now. I'm running on empty and I just keep on going. Fearing I'll reach the end of the tunnel sometime soon I get angry. I'm lashing out at people. Getting too damn excited, yelling, throwing things. I've never acted like that before, a brief psychotic break aside.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

That's not who I am, nor who I want to be.

I need help.

Fake, Fake, Fake, Records, Records:


Some of these words are by Dead Prez. I will identify their words in orange. My words will be in black.

Uh, uh, uh, 1, 2, 1, 2
Uh, uh, 1, 2, 1, 2, uh, uh
All my dogs

These guys count, say uh, and like their friends.

Fake, Fake, Fake, Fake Records, Records

They think most records realeased are fake, and are setting up their song.

It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip
It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip hop

It is bigger than hip hop, so what do they have to say about it all? Let's listen...

Uh, one thing bout music, when it hit you feel no pain
White folks say it controls your brain
I know better than that, that's game and we ready for that
Two soldiers head of the pack, matter of fact who got the gat?
And where my army at?
Rather attack and not react
Back the beats, it don't reflect on how many records get sold
On sex, drugs, and rock and roll, whether your project's put on hold
In the real world, these just people with ideas
They're just like me and you when the smoke and cameras disappear
Again the real world (world),
it's bigger than all these fake ass records
When poor folks got the millions and my woman's disrespected
If you check 1, 2, my word of advice to you is just relax
Just do what you got to do, if that don't work then kick the facts
If you're a fighter, rider, biter , flame ignitor, crowd exciter
Or you wanna just get high, then just say it
But then if you're a liar-liar, pants on fire, wolf-cry agent with a wire
I'm gonna know it when I play it

This guy, he does the whole first verse right there. He and I both know that when music hits your brain you feel really good. Me and this guy also know that white folks say it controls your brain. Stupid crackas! They're lying, again! But me and this guy know that. We're ready for that type of thing to happen. These guys are then wondering where their guns are, where their friends are hiding. Because these guys would rather attack the crackas in the City Hall buildings, then just sit back and take all of this nonsense.

They go on to say that the records that get sold in popular music don't reflect on the money that those people are getting. They may sell a lot of records, but they're still broke. These people making the music are just regular people after their music videos get done filming. And all of their music videos are the same, the same scenes, the same directors, the same stupid bullshit that you always see.

They also don't like misogyny in music these days. They have wives or girlfriends and they respect those women.

It doesn't matter who are, because if you're making records, and they don't reflect on who you really are, then everyone will know.

It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip
It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip hop

It's still more important than rap music, that's right Dead Prez. Why don't you tell us more? Oh, wait, the other guy is about to. Here's what he says...

Uh, who shot Biggie Smalls?
If we don't get them, they're gonna get us all
I'm down for runnin up on them crackers in they city hall
We ride for y'all, all my dogs stay real
Nigga don't think these record deals gonna feed your seeds
And pay your bills because they not
MC's get a little bit of love and think they hot
Talkin bout how much money they got, all y'all records sound the same
I'm sick of that fake thug, r & b, rap scenario all day on the radio
Same scenes in the video, monotonous material, y'all dont here me though
These record labels slang our tapes like dope
You can be next in line, and signed, and still be writing rhymes and broke
You would rather have a Lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance?
A beamer, a necklace or freedom?
Still a nigga like me don't playa hate, I just stay awake
This real hip hop, and it don't stop until we get the po-po off the block
They call it....

So this guy starts out asking a common question. He asks who killed the Notorious BIG. I wonder the same thing sometimes. Because that guy could rap well, and he got shot and killed in Brooklyn in March of 1997. It's been over 10 years now and they still don't know who killed him. Tupac was supposed to have been murdered in September of 1996 in Las Vegas. And they say he died on Friday the 13th of September of 1996. Although he was shot on September 9th of that same year. But they never had a funeral for that guy. He also still makes new songs. He had a music video that came out in 1998 where he was driving a car that didn't come out until 1999. That car was a Volkswagon Beetle Convertable. Like maybe 500 people had those in 1998 as it was before they were officially released to the public. People that worked for Volkswagon and people that worked at car dealerships had them, though. Maybe Tupac works for VW? Or owns a car dealership somewhere?

So they wonder if most people would rather have nice cars, and expensive or a nice life.

But they don't get down on that, they just keep on keepin' on.

They're gonna go ahead and keep making music until the police leave their neighboorhoods alone. I sometimes wish that the police would leave my neighboorhood, too. And my old one in Columbus. And the one before that one in Fairborn. Pesky 5-0 buggers don't know when to leave people alone anymore. They'll arrest you every time you leave your house if they want to. And if you don't leave your house they'll come into your house and take you out of it if they think they can charge you with something. Then they'll arrest you anyway, even if they can't charge you for anything. It happens everyday, in every state in the US. It happens in every country in the world with a police force. All of them. This happens thousands of times per day all around the world. Easily a million times a year. Easily. I have the stats on that somewhere, too.

It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip
It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip hop

Yeah, guys, you told us that. We still believe you, too.

Uh, DP's got that crazy shit we keep it crunked up
John Blazed and shit what

Uh, DP's got that crazy shit we keep it crunked up
John Blazed and shit what

John Blaze is the guy who made the beat for this song. He makes a lot of good beats. A lot of the greatest songs in rap were produced by that guy. They call themselves DP, cause they're named Dead Prez. They have crazy shit to say and they keep it crunk. But this song came out way before Lil John made being crunk cool. DP always crunk. They stay crunked up. This song came out in the year 2000. Before and after that they keep going strong and making songs that they want to make.

They may also be hard of hearing, they say what a lot.

Fake, fake, fake records

Yeah, records are fake these days. You guys were right again.

These guys predict the future all of the time.

Keep it up, dudes.

Maybe you men can tell me when to buy milk when it's cheaper. Or maybe when people will be able to afford gas again, if ever. Only you guys seem to know these things. Tell me sooner than later though, cause I'd like to be able to take aimless roadtrips again someday. And also be able to buy a lot of milk when I get there. I like drinking milk and driving, but not usually at the same time.

I loves me some Dead Prez, too. While driving or whilst drinking milk. They make my milk taste crunked up and more awesome than usual. That's a good thing, I suppose. Crunk Milk will be the next big fad out of Japan. It'll be huge in the USA by March of 2009.

Believe it.

I lost my mind for awhile back there. I picked it back up again somewhere along the way.

They Call it Hip Hop:

This little girl is my little girl. Her name is Olive Grace and she's pretty much the smartest baby ever. She is just a little over 4 months old and she can mimic most sounds that she hears. She can crawl like a champion. She's fucking adorable. She looks cute in everything. She will own your baby's soul by next April. Watch out, because OGP is running things this year. June 22nd, 2007 will go down in history as the day the world changed. Coincidentally, OGP are Olive's initials and she was born on June 22nd of this year.

BEST BABY EVER!

Fear and Loathing in the Midwest: A Brutal and Savage Saga into the Heart of it All in Conjunction with the It after All

Part One

This piece is about Ohio as well as the Apocolypse. This is the first of many parts of said saga. A saga is, after all, a long and involved piece of writing. This will most likely be a book one day. One day. A day far, far away from now. As of now, this is appearing only on my blogger. Legal-speak will appear at the bottom of this entry.

I'll start near the beginning. It all started, and I mean, REALLY started, in 1993. I was 6. It really didn't come around again until I was 9. But it flooded me like a typhoon. It peeked in at me in 2nd Grade, randomly, and was gone before it really settled in. It roared into my life in the summer of '05. It hit me like a fucking frieght train, and almost flattened me, a few Tuesdays back. I remain standing, taller and stronger than ever.

WHAT IS IT!?! I would ask myself the same question right about now if I were you. I am prepared to attempt to answer that question for the first time in my life in any semblence of a public manner.

IT, in one word, is, in fact, EVERYTHING.

But how? I think I know. It all starts during Babylon and ends in ALMOST EXACTLY FIVE YEARS FROM THIS VERY MOMENT IN TIME.

Did the headiness, and heavyness of that statement sink in yet? Hopefully it will soon if it hasn't already.

Allow me to re-intoduce myself. My name is Eric. And I can now, legally, and, amazingly, quasi-contractually, preface it with a Sir. And amazingly, almost am required to, somehow, end it with an Esq. I have a Middle and Last name in there somewhere too. They're both real, and actually sound alright to the ear after you let the foolishness of it all mock too many traditions. You'll probably hear the whole damn thing sooner than I would like to believe.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! A proverbial and literal, WHOLE FUCKING SHITLOAD, more.

Let's get into the Fury that is now almost in full swing. The easy and stupid word for it is the Apocolypse. Everyone knows that word. What everyone doesn't think to ask themselves, unfortunatly, is the question that should automatically raise a mental red flag: THE APOCOLYPSE OF WHAT!?!?!

I'll attempt to explain. Without getting at all into world history as we know it, or at all into religious history as we somehow believe it, I'll pose a quick allegory that relates to corporate office management. The Middle Managment is about to take their revenge on us, the public, but the Front and Upper Managment, was right all along and will, indeed, prevail. The wonderful news is that the Public, society at large, will be fine.

How in the fuck can I attempt to say I know this!?!?! I would ask the same question if I weren't who I now know and fully believe I am. I, as in I. I, in fact, am not really all that remarkable at all. I just kept my ears, and mind, way too OPEN, for a little bit too LONG.

This is where it gets weird. (As though it all already hasn't, I'm thinking to myself.)

It's basically all in the Genes, the Jeans, and that lady named Gene that you forgot about a few decades back. She may have been your neighboor, your teacher, your mom, your doctor, or just some bag lady that really stuck out in your mind at the time as very unique. She was, in fact, pretty damn unique. She could have been a He. She may have been a He-She, even. Whatever s/he, meant to you is really not that remarkable on the surface. But, is more than remarkable when you really think about how right that person/thing was. Let that sink in.

That's really what this is about. Not a feeling, not a person, not an action, not a label. Just a few random things you may or may not remember that had a few huge and remarkable courses of impact on your life as you have come to know it up to this point in time.

Talk amongst yourselves.

I don't care about ANYTHING else that is going on around me at this time, save ONE person, more than THIS.

THIS IS EVERYTHING. IT IS NOTHING. IT IS THE VERY FABRIC OF BEING. I AM NO ADDICT FOR DRAMATICS. THIS IS AS REAL AS REAL CAN EVER GET.

To be honest, most of the answers to my questions were answered in one 25 minute span by a man I met a few Tuesdays ago while I was in Jail. I was in jail on a federal warrant that didn't actually exist. This man's official title was quite high. For the prison system in my state, he is second only to the Govenor. He only comes to my old place of incarceration for two hours once every two weeks. It is beyond lucky that I met him.

He told me everything I ever wanted to know about my life but had been unable to ask. I was unable to ask these things not because I was scared to bring them up, but because no one I knew could possibly know the answers to my questions.

The thing is, this man knew things about me that no one should have possibly known. He knew my inner thoughts from years back. He knew about, when I was nine, when I had almost jumped out of my bedroom window on the second floor in an attempt to kill myself. The funny thing was, I NEVER told ANYONE about that. But he knew.

He also knew what stopped me. It was the voice of my 'grandfather', or at least, the man who I thought was my grandfather at the time. No one should have been able to know that. Yet, this man did.

He went on to tell me who my real grandfather was. The man who really is my mother's father. He is actually quite famous. He is also, according to popular legend, quite dead. I now know that he is very much alive, for he was introduced to me personally for an all too brief time while I was in that room with him, in jail.

Where this gets weird is I actually met this man in real life, randomly at a bookstore in Cleveland, about 6 months before he 'died'. It gets even stranger that this man is my favorite person ever who is not actually related to me. Well, was my favortie person ever who wasn't related to me. As I had long suspected, he really is. As I had never suspected, he is my mother's dad, my blood grandfather.

The man who raised my mother and lived his life as my grandfather was, as I knew when he passed 1993, actually the older brother of my real grandpa. I knew this because he told me so. He spoke his last words to me and me alone and then died. The strange thing was he actually didn't stop 'living' until the next day, Easter Sunday. He's still a really good person and I respect him greatly for what he did for my mother and I. I will still always refer to him as my Grandpa.

My other Grandfather, my dad's dad, passed away in May 2006 at the age of 73. This other Grandpa I had passed away in 1993 and everyone said he was 73. This real grandfather of mine 'passed away' in 2005, and was 73 at that time. Why is this 73 number so important? I really have no idea, actually. I just happen to know that every man in my life dies when he reaches that age. At least, he appears to.

Um... where do you go from here...

Alright, we'll go back to when my mom was born in 1956. Times were different, and it wasn't alright to just have a baby because you were having sex with someone. You had to be married, you had to at least appear respectable. So that's what my Grandma decided she was going to do.. appear respectable.

Pretty soon after she got pregnant with my mom she must have decided either on her own or with the help of my Grandpa that she was going to marry his older brother.

I really can't say whether my aunt, her second child, is from the same man as my mother. I do know that the two brothers look remarkably similar to each other so it'd be pretty difficult to know for sure. What I do know is this: in my family tree, of which I've done extensive research (with the help of my grandma, my mom's mom, coincidentally), and noticed that the divorce of my Grandma Mary from my 'Grandpa' Herb was the only divorce in that family tree.

What's further, it happened a long time ago, when my mom was still in high school and my aunt was in middle school. What's further, Grandma Mary remarried a man only a few years later and pretty much immeadiatly left Ohio to go live in Nebraska. My mom stayed behind (she was 16), and my aunt went with them.

My mom had already graduated from high school at this point, so for a few months she lived with Herb while she worked full time to save enough to begin college that next spring.

My mom met my dad in college, at Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio (where I started my college education), sometime in their freshman year of 1974. They both graduated in 1978, and were married in 1981. I came around in November of 1986.

My Dad is now part-owner of an accounting/financial planning business and is a raging alcoholic. Coincidentally, my Dad is brilliant.

As ever, my Mom is making at least 3 times as much as my Dad. She used to be a Realtor, moved on to Mortgage Banker, and now is, for the fist time in over two decades, "in between careers". She is still bringing home most of the bread, but is also going to school full time in hopes of becoming a para-legal.

I am now 20, almost 21, have had my first child almost exactly 4 months ago, and am, for the first time in my life, homeless. I'll admit, I didn't have the child, but it is very much mine and was birthed by a lady named Courtney whom I still love very deeply but am more or less forced not to see for at least a little while.

To make a long story shorter: the day before I got kicked out of that house, I paid my share of the rent.

To make matters worse, my car, along with almost all of my shit inside, my phone, and the $14 remaining dollars I had to my name... were towed away 2 days after getting kicked out.

So for 8 full days I was homeless on the streets of Columbus, Ohio.

Somehow I made it back to Dayton, with my car and all of my shit, minus my cell phone, and came straight to my parent's house.


This text is copywriten by the author. It is property of the author, and first appeared online in November of 2007. Any re-production, whether in part or in full, is not allowed unless given by the author. This must be granted in written consent by the author. This text is protected by the Intellectual Copywrite Laws and granted by the DCL Association. This organization has almost full international grounds for enforcing said copywrites on the author's behalf.

I need to do some marketing or something - guerrilla style. No one really reads this, and in order for this little space to flourish I will need some people to send stuff in. Any and all e-mails can be sent to lucid_chicanery@yahoo.com.

In other, personal news - I probably need to find a new job. Working at this gas station is nice and all, but I need more funds. I'm working full time and making shit for money. If I worked anywhere else and worked this amount of hours (40-50 recently), I'd actually be able to not live paycheck to paycheck.

Maybe one of you out there needs a tour manager or something? Aha, anything would be cool.

I'm looking forward to any emails that may come my way.

And in closing, as my buddy Scott always says: Wear your seat belts!

Did I really just say "time" in an increment of four on that last post?

Sloppy at best, it seems.

"I may have been born yesterday, sir, but I been up all night"

- El-P

It's beginning.

What this is beginning is, I'd prefer to keep cryptic at this time. But I am interested to see the outcome of what happens this time.

Just know that I love you all, and don't want to be nuisance this time.

More updates, about various things, to come. It's a productive time that lies ahead for me.

You're a wolf, boy, get out of this town..

Well, it's been over a year. A lot of things have happened since this last post. Let's make a list.

1) My computer crashed. (it was later reconfigured rendering my extensive music collection and the beginnings of my novel gone)

2) I broke up with my girlfriend and moved out of the apartment we were sharing. (we later got back together)

3) I lost the will to write anything anymore. ( I recently got that back)

4) My girlfriend and I had a child. (Her name is Olive and she's wonderful)

5) no need for a number 5....


So, it has come to my attention that I need some sort of way to express my thoughts blogically. This particular blog lost whatever spark it may have had. I'm debating whether to start a new one with a different agenda or to continue attempting to make this so-called showcase of the midwest blogsposium. Any input, from anyone, would be appreciated. Be as critical or nice as you please. And for god sakes if you have some fucking stuff you want me to evaluate send it my way. E-mail anything you have to lucid_chicanery@yahoo.com.

That is all for now.

Dayton: The Scene, vol. 1 (the music)

Dayton, Ohio is where I'm from. The first Pittsburgh, if you ask me. It's originally an industrial town. Everyone of any importance got out of this town years ago. If they didn't flat out leave the state, they at least moved south to the Dayton suburbs (where I was born,) or they went even farther south towards Cincinnati or up to Columbus or Cleveland. Dayton is dead.

It used to be beyond dead. Now that I'm living here, and the city is attempting to build things up again, remodel, demolish, and recreate - I just wonder if the continually growing, and thriving music scene really means anything. Dayton's biggest export of the last twenty years (aside from Alien Workshop Skateboards) was Guided by Voices. And they played their final show in Chicago... talk about hometown pride. Dayton has/had venues big enough to support that show. Bigger than where they chose in Chicago, and nicer, with better acoustics and a fuller bar. Guided by Voices, and particularly Bob Pollard, their leader, are known as heavy drinkers.

The music scene here is full of venues that are more than happy to give anyone a shot. The fact remains, even the worst of bands in this town can still put asses in the seats (or the bar, as the case may be). Throughout the year, you can find venues such as Elbo's, the Canal Street Tavern, The Dublin Pub, Nite Owl playing anything and everything downtown.. And then there is also always something fun going on up in Yellow Springs, home of a comedian named Dave.

The shittiest band of the last three years on a national level tries to claim Dayton as their home: Hawthorne Heights. They never played out a day of their cursed lives in Dayton. They will still get laughed off the streets if they step foot downtown, and never played outside of the Kettering city limits before they got signed. Oh, was the Cellar in Moraine? WOW, you're still 12 miles away from anything respectable, you assholes. The Attic, your venue of choice for the hometown rally whenever you're feeling down, is in Kettering. Kettering doesn't need you.

Kettering has Rob Dyrdek, professional skater, who was nice enough to donate a world class skatepark for the kids.

All the guys in that band did was make every self respecting music fan/musician ashamed to be from Ohio in the first place. You guys say your heart is in Ohio, huh? Ohio will gladly give it back to you now, and you can take it where you're wanted. Good luck. I hear Iowa's in dire need of people in the sanitation industry, because you're all full of shit. If I had it my way, there would be no more interviews in the Dayton Daily News for you bastards any time the wind changes direction. No one respects you. Your label, Victory Records, proud supporter of once quality bands such as, dare I say Thursday, doesn't need you. Sure, your shit gets on Fuse, but who can't? You need to be dropped from your label, and fast. Victory could pay three self-deserving bands the support a monthly per diem for what it takes to get you guys to get on a bus to Texas. I'm over it, Dayton is so much better than you guys ever were.

If you want REAL Dayton music, take a look at these artists. Note: Descriptions are mostly my own and not in the words of the bands themselves. Try on The Sailing for some space rock. Or, how about Yakuza Heart Attack for some electronic/full band punk-esque chaos? Also take a look at Captain of Industry who are indie in a popish manner, but better than that probably sounds. Not your thing? How about Halos Were Found at the Landing Site who describe themselves as indie rock for arenas. I think that fits those guys pretty well. Or possibly eyediedtrying who are pure metal, in the best sense of the word. You can't miss Romance of Young Tigers who may be harder to classify, but that’s not really a bad thing. They’re recording through the month of July. The now defunct High Plains Drifter (HPD)were just constant amazement for everyone who witnessed their shows. The members of HPD seem to be getting some quality solo projects up and running as we speak, including: Engine the Gun and Arms Race, both of which are as yet unclassifiable in any cut and dry way. Or hell, even give Words as Weapons a try. They’re screamo, but in the best sense of the word.

The guys in that last band are from a quasi-country community just north of Dayton and are putting in some time, doing what they love, and singing for the kids. They're not singing to the kids, there is a difference. Tyler, a guitarist of theirs, was in my fall quarter Sociology class at Wright State. He's a super nice guy, and deserves anything he and his bandmates will ever get. He knows the history of their scene. What's it all about.

All of these bands have that DIY feeling that you HAVE to do it on your own. Just like Stephen Malkmus famously sang in his band Pavement's song entitled 'Range Life' - "You gotta pay your dues, before you pay your rent." Although he's from Northern California, the kids with the world at their feet in Dayton, Ohio seem to have heard him, or at least believe in a similar sentiment. And they're all doing it the way he was trying to tell us to. The Gospel According to Malkmus is a beautiful thing, for it seems to have served us well.

And just one more guy... Thrill Nova (pure hip hop, in the tradition of Wu-Tang, or older east coast rap). He's the new self-proclaimed God MC with a mic (think: Nas). As Thrill Nova himself likes to say "scream at him, when you see him." And you will see Thrill Nova too, soon enough.

I'd like to thank my friend Young Fonz of the Dirty Thirty for exposing me to this wonderful breath of fresh air so badly needed in the hip hop scene. Thrill Nova's collective, Animal House, is on the rise.

And all of the artists mentioned above can be listened to on MySpace.com. No links needed, just type any enticing band name into search on the music function and you'll find them. I guess that's probably true for Hawthorne Heights, too, but... who cares? It's mostly bad music on that site anyway, so they fit in just fine on the internet, which is where they should stay anyway.


The best of luck to all of you in Dayton who continue to keep making the sounds you love to make on a steady basis with continually great results.

And if you want a copy of the above artists' work on a CD, I can help you get your hands on it.

Woot! If you're reading these words, and you're not me, then you may be the first one to see this horrible excuse for a blog. Congratulations? Uh, tell all your friends? Wait...why would you do that? I have an introduction, some links, a profile, and a post about a comedian who makes me laugh. What do you get out of this so far? Nothing. Time to make things interesting

The name of this blog: midwest to question mark, is meant to showcase anything coming out of the midwest, Ohio specifically (where I'm living), that you don't know about. Feasably because you're somewhere other than the midwest. Maybe even another country. The two people whose blogs I've read using this service are from England, and they're artists. I'm no artist, but I can write like a mother fucker sometimes. So if you do art, are from the Midwestern United States, and want someone to write about it and hopefully get your work out there, well e-mail me your work if you can. Get ahold of me at lucid_chicanery@yahoo.com. It doesn't matter what it is, I'll read every e-mail I get on that account. Same goes for music you made with you/your friends, poetry, prose, whatever you do, send it this way if you want it to get promoted. (I realize it's not a major site at this time, and I know that this should change as soon as I get things to promote).

If you're wondering what I'm into - click on the link entitled space and it's my myspace. I'm beginning to hate myspace, but I've been there for so many years that it's just hard to get away from. As you may be able to tell, I love music of all types. OK, well, fuck modern country. If that's what you make, I don't want to hear it. Anything else? Then send it here.


Oh, so you make films of some sort? That's cool, I like em all. If you made it, you should be able to get some sort of write up. I'll be honest, but I won't be mean. If it sucks, I'll say it's rough. It doesn't suck, because you know you can do better. If you made it, you put it in the work, and you edited the best you know how - then it'll at least be entertaining if not plain great.

Poetry/prose. Poetry is what you do? Send it all. Essays, short stories, novelettes, even a novel you just wrote? I'll read it. Then I'll write about it. I am a writer myself, so I always like to see what people are doing. And, I WILL NOT steal your story ideas. If they're good, then they're yours, and you deserve to have your art not infringed on by me or anyone else. If it's really good, then I'll promote the hell out of it, in places aside from this website, or the internet at all. I do know a publisher or two in a good place. I'm pretty much a journalist - and I'm way too early into college to even think about writing for anything other than the school paper. And my school paper fucking sucks. So here I am.

If you create, I'll evaluate, promote, and things will be good. That is all for now.

So, uh, here is the website of a comedian I know named Jesse Nutt. He happens to be the father of an ex-girlfriend of mine, but she cool, so check this website out, it's http://www.leftnuttrightnutt.com.

The site is pretty new, so it's rough, but if you're wanting the funny check out the link on that page to his myspace and the one link on his site to a short clip of one of his (albeit shorter than not) routines that he has entitled 'dookie tooth'. He's a hoot and half, and yet I have never seen him live. He was always funny around the Nutt House, as I will now call his home, but I never really knew how great his comedy routine was until I stumbled upon his myspace awhile back. And that is pretty new itself. Anyway, if you like to laugh, and/or like politics, and/or like to click links, then go to Jesse Nutt's brand new webpage which feature views from the right wing and left wing sides as well as an all Jesse side. And they're all fucking nutt's!

And Mr. Nutt, if you happen to see this page, well, I'm sorry for not being completely normal myself. Best of wishes to you and your family, though. And happy comedy-ing, good sir.

I'd like to welcome all of you, albeit not too many, to this little spot where I will probably update at least once a day.

What will I write? I know not. Will there be pictures? I would think so, at least some of the time. Will I like it? Well I will, so you should too, if you so choose to. And unimportantly, will this blog make it to the big time, make this guy a blog celeb? I doubt it, but here's hoping, I suppose? I don't care either way, as long as I still like it, I will continue to write here. Maybe you'll read it, maybe you won't. But if you like what you see then you might as well say so. That'd make me kind of happy, knowing at least someone liked what I wrote.


You shouldn't comment this update, as it is my first, and don't expect it to be that great. But, happy reading, for those of you happen to care. Namaste.