My Endtimes Playlist

Well, here we are at the end of days. Darn, I had a few things planned for the weekend. Yoga Class followed by anger management class, volunteering at the animal shelter followed by a big game hunting expedition just north of a suburban neighborhood. I'm bummed about having to cancel my balloon art class as well. I need it for clown college.

Oh Well, life is full of would- ofs, could- ofs , and should ofs.  As I now have to respect that my body has merely been a vessel for chicken wings, pale ales, unfinished reviews and burning tears, I can reflect back on a curmudgeonly life before my last journey.

And before I leave my perfectly clean and folded shirt and pants topped with white sneakers on my bed  where the post -rapture party people can find them, I've whipped up a playlist to pipe into my brain while I lay in state, waiting for my one way trip to the great mosh pit in the sky. I encourage you to do the same, but think about leaving fresh water and a big pile of dry food for your pets first.

1) Fire and Rain-James Taylor
2) Rapture-Blondie
3) End of The Line-Traveling Wilburys
4) Take Me To The River- Talking Heads version
5) Remember-Jimi Hendrix
6) Across the Universe-The Beatles
7) Lake of Fire-Meat Puppets
8) Ring of Fire-Johnny Cash
9) Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be- AC/DC
10) Travelin' Light- JJ Cale
11) Naked Burn- Mastodon
12) Killed By Death-Motorhead
13) Naked as We Came- Iron and Wine
14) Gone, Gone, Gone-Bad Company
15) Here Today, Gone Tomorrow- The Ramones
16) Paradise City- Guns N' Roses
17) An Ending(Ascent)- Brian Eno
18) Return to Sender-Elvis Presley
19) Waiting Room- Fugazi
20) If the World Should End in Fire-Handsome Family
21) Stop Your Sobbing- Pretenders version
22) The Loser in the End- Queen
23) Exit Strategy- Valient Thorr
24) I've Had Enough- The Who
25) Tales of a Scorched Earth- Smashing Pumpkins
26) Party in the USA- Miley Cyrus



There you have it.  Hours of fun as the world burns(not turns).  I'll see you on the other side, readers, unless I'm re-incarnated as a radioactive garden slug like I've always hoped.   Feel free to add to the list.

I'm Square and I'm Proud

Yeah, this is brilliant. And dead on. I can't decide who to fear more...every living teenager or anyone from the 11211. Aren't the end times coming or something?

Happy Fathers Day

If you are all gooshy, gooey and sap-fucking-tastic about Mother's Day, then PLEASE DON'T read this. This post is all boot- crushed bouquets and fire- bombed brunches, so you've been warned.

A short playlist of mother related  songs at top fucking volume in my cans today.

Mother by John Lennon
Mother by Danzig
Mother by Pink Floyd
Mother Puncher by Mastodon
Motherless Children by Eric Clapton
Full on Kevin's Mom by Soundgarden
Bad Mother Boogie by Cactus
Tie Your Mother Down by Queen
Mommy Can I Go Out and Kill Tonight by The Misfits

and a song my friend Anthony and I wrote and recorded called Well Enough Unknown

My mom was a great mom for 24 years and then she completely shit the bed.
She's been the queen of abandonment and selfishness since then.

She's got her sunshine state fortress of solitude, smoking, tanning, bloodletting regretting and forgetting .

If she walked up to my almost five year old and said hello in a raspy sqwawk from behind wrinkled lips, he wouldn't even know who the fuck she was.

I've got issues, yes. But if you think ALL mothers deserve praise today , don't fucking kid yourself.

I could tell you stories, man.  But I don't want you to spit out your Eggs Benedict. Some mother hen shit them out for you so you could get all dressed up and eat them with your happy broods.

Here's to all the Dads who are moms, too.

Teach Your Children(or punish them)

This is happening in every city,town, country, chat room, juvenile jail cell, sleep over, play date, chaperoned mall trip and during texting marathons when kids should be babysitting, and in study halls....basement bars....backs of cars.....etc.

Only you can stop this madness.

Please call 1800- CIRCFIT for anonymous, confidential help.

It was three days of burst and spilled emotions as I traveled home with my son in tow for the 4th annual Meaghan's Run 5k this past weekend.  Meaghan wasn't there. She really wasn't there. I tried to catch her in the wind against my face as I stepped half lively for 3.1 miles with forty pounds of little boy on my shoulder.

I tried to feel her spirit hovering above the hundreds of sweaty strangers sucking down orange slices after a brisk morning run to support local research for early detection of lung cancer.

I was so thankful for the hundreds of people who came and partook in support, without ever having the pleasure of spending one afternoon, one discussion, one moment in the clutches of her charms and charisma, grounded and glorious.

But I was distracted. I was sure I would be able to be close to her in her home town, her only town. My home town of Rochester. Since her death in 2008, we have avoided each other, distracted by speed trials of life and protecting the ones we love. It will be her 40th birthday on May 5th.  This year, we have needed each other more than ever. With my broken marriage pummeling me like a prize fighter, almost every day is a tired twelfth round. And in her home town, there are divided lives, grief that has left her seeds of wisdom abandoned in a weedy field. The voices of her children are only recalled in memory by those she had asked to protect them and enrich half of a heritage with the stories she left and the lessons she could not.

I wish I knew where she was. I suspect she is riding a storm that twists clouds, wreaks havok and moves on far above the earth, the town, the houses where those storms touch down, cutting an angry swatch of damage through fragile threads that keep families and neighborhoods bound among whispers, lies and silence.

Recovery from one of these storms is lengthy, laborious You heal, rebuild the roads and bridges, replace the windows, just in time for the next one to throw a punch from behind the stirring ,silent clouds.

When those clouds break, I will find her.