Friday, October 03, 2008

The Gathering Storm

Hey! Did you know that I am a mere seven posts away from my 500th - yes, that's FIVE HUNDREDTH - post on this silly blog? I feel like I should do something special. & by something special, I don't mean a nostalgiac look back at previous anniversary posts. We can do that now:

from post 100 (March 7, 2007):

Welcome to the 100th post of my Self Help Radio blog! It's such a special occasion I've made this entire entry out of cheese. [...]

Hooray! 100 posts! Someone get me a cheese shredder & we can eat!

from post 200 (August 13, 2007):

So, let me formally apologize for this disappointing 200th post & let's move on to more or less the same sort of thing for the next one hundred. Oh boy! One hundred more posts! Who would've thought? Etc., etc.

from post 300 (January 9, 2008):

This is my THREE HUNDREDTH post on this blog. Has anyone (you know, beside James Joyce) ever used some many letters of the alphabet to say so little? Why can't academics use my blog to support their careers? It just seems sad.

from post 400 (the saddest one, May 26, 2008):

It's Memorial Day & this is also blog entry four hundred, & it certainly wasn't planned, but I am glad I have a place & time to honor Buster with some small remembrances.

I think I was so disappointed by the disappointment that was the disappointing two-hundredth post that I have downplayed the anniversary aspect since then. But no more! Let's celebrate!

So it'll probably happen week after next - what do you want to celebrate with? Shall I send you something in the mail? Do you want to have your picture taken with my dogs? Can I write you a poem or teach you braille? You must let me know. Let me know!

& of course it's not too late to plan to listen to Self Help Radio this weekend, the theme of which is "too late!" Tomorrow afternoon. Be there or be... too late!

Thursday, October 02, 2008

The Self Help Radio Email Archive Project: Submission One

It's well known among those who know me well that I suffered (& therefore so did they) for a lot of my young adult life with a sort of depression. I was never diagnosed, & I worked through it in a way that I know many folks wouldn't be able to, but the depression & the recovery did lead me to alienate lots of sweet folks in ways that I regret now but, through the rosy lens of time, which tells me you can't go home again so why not laugh at the stumbling it took to get you away from there, I can wince & make fun of my past, & now, so can you!

Presenting the Self Help Radio Email Archive Project! Each week, if & when possible, I'll present an old email I wrote under unhappy circumstances for your edification & amusement. I'll not print any email I did not myself write, nor will I leave in the email any obvious reference to the person to whom I was writing, to respect their privacy, although I'm sure they've forgotten about me long, long ago.

Today's submission is full of ridiculous capital letters & was supposed to be funny. The person to whom I wrote never responded. The email was entitled "Mail Bomb." It was written over ten years ago.

I've spent the day looking at old emails I wrote you. You're so lucky I wrote such wonderful emails to you. I am a fabulous email writer. I think I will crown myself "King Cockhead" & never show my face around here again.

I'm just plain sweet, when I am not being King Cockhead. The girl what recently broked my heart told me I was "too sweet." Then she broked my heart. Just say la vie.

Yes! He's King Shit of Fuck Mountain! He's so right it makes your penis hurt, if you have a penis & it doesn't hurt already! Make him God! Make him God! Woo-hoo!

I talk very quietly, always have, in amazingly beautiful & seductive tones. My ears bleed when I scratch my ass. Anyway, I break glass here. I'm such a wonderful person, but I've got problems. & you'll never touch me.

The latest KVRX CD won the best CD Design award & of course I headed the team that designed it. Ta-da! I am KING SHIT! I am KING COCKHEAD! EVERYONE! FUCK ME UP THE ASS! NOW! NOW! NOW!

I get to make a speech, too. Tonight. With a naked girl on each arm. That's FORTY-THREE NAKED GIRLS! I am a sea cucumber!

Do they hold this at the Convention Center? Since when do women marry suits? Or date them for that matter? Did I tell you that my ears bleed whenever you sing? Preach on, Sister!

Enclosed please find a picture of a skinny girl in a tight white dress with her nipples erect. I like the picture because she looks like a mannequin & I like the road she's on. Wish I were there, wish I was there & nobody could find me.

I hope you have all the emails I wrote you. I am so fucking brilliant I am scared of my shorts. They will be worth mucho money when that diamond bullet finds its way into my head or heart. Save them! Save them now!

I love you, & always will, for I am a good KING COCKHEAD with a heart of GOLDEN CHEESE.


I have of course no idea why someone would not reply to such a beautiful email.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Whither Too Late?

Oh crap. It's too late in the day to write in my blog about this week's show, which is "too late." The show, if I were to do it now, would be too early, even if it were "too late." But I have stuff to do & frittered away time today with stuff like work & mining & now it's just too late to write anything. Drat!

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Preface To Too Late!: A Brutal Ritual Is Born & Bred

Do you own a hazmat suit? I don't. But I do want one. Unfortunately, one hears two disheartening facts about hazmat suits that makes it very unlikely for me to ever get a hazmat suit (unless you get one for me):

1) They're apparently expensive - some may cost as much as four thousand dollars!
2) Some of them have to be disposed after use. Like a tuxedo!

By the way, I don't want one because I'm afraid of biological or chemical or nuclear attacks. I just want to have a hazmat suit. No one I know has one. So it would be neat to have friends over & say, "Hey! Have you seen my new hazmat suit?" They'd ooo & aaa & perhaps even try it on. What fun!

Of course, if there were a biological or chemical or nuclear attack while a friend was wearing my hazmat suit, then I'd be shit out of luck. So if I get a hazmat suit, you can't wear it for very long, & you certainly can't wear it outside.

What will I need? Something called a SCBA with a hanging mask. A cooling vest. A voice-actuated radio with a microphone in the mask. Protective gloves. A one-piece Tyvek suit. What's that? It's one of these. Disposable! What a waste. Also Tyvek booties.

That's just one layer! Listen to this: "The suit has a one way (exhaust) pressure bleed valve. This is required because as the wearer exhales, the used air must go somewhere. Even with this valve, the suits tend to blow up like balloons. When sealed up, the wearer is completely isolated from the outside atmosphere. Nothing (hopefully) can get in, and, unfortunately, almost nothing (including body heat and sweat) can get out. These suits are comprised of up to a dozen protective layers."

(That's from the Santa Clara County Fire Department website. Those guys get to wear hazmat suits at work!)

Doesn't it sound awesome? I'm not saying you should get me anything for National Day of the People's Republic of China (which is tomorrow), but if you're going to, there's an idea. A hazmat suit for Gary. Yippee!

Monday, September 29, 2008

Nevermind The Bedsores

In a mention at the last convention, the intention of the dissention of those who escaped detention was by extension brought to our attention. Like a benediction adapted from fiction delivered with sloppy diction, this removed all restrictions & caused friction tantamount to dereliction. The unruly faction sought to take action to gain a measure of satisfaction from the reaction of the abstraction, causing a distraction from their transaction. Such causation happened in gradation leading to the formation of a new foundation premised on the temptation of salvation for friends & relations currently on vacation. Denouncing it as absurd was what was preferred among those who concurred - even preferred - to dismiss the word that occurred as though it were slurred, unheard, conferred by a nerd.

All of this fol de rol would have easily been avoided if they had all come together as you & I have now & simply sat down with drink in hand & ears wide open & listened to last week's episode of Self Help Radio. Known the world over as the one true radio show, capable of moderating the fiercest of disagreements, possessing the finest of what is known as "good music," Self Help Radio is currently under study by conflict-resolution researchers the world over for its measured manners & soothing overtones.

& if that's not entirely (or at all) true, then at least it's fun. Go! Listen to Self Help Radio! Or I'll rhyme some more!