Wishful Wrinkling: The Irrational Complexities of Adulthood.

With only a bucketful of hours left in the year Y2K+7, it seems appropriate to take to the electronic equivalent of the streets and fly something up the YPS!! flagpole as a parting shot to 2007. Why would I do such a thing? I don't have an answer for that question, because one answer would likely lead to more questions and I don't have that kind of time. I'm old and fragile, not to mention the fact that my answers are few and far between these days.


It's no secret to anyone spending more than a few moments of quality(?) time at YPS!! that I am the dreaded combination of cynic and pessimist. It's not something that has me beaming with pride, nor is it something I diligently keep hidden under my hat. Perhaps that is because I rarely wear hats and that might be something I will take up in the new year. The Shriners always look rather suave in their fezzes (and no, I have no clue if that is an actual plural form of fez or if I have just made up yet another word of questionable value) and who can argue with the ever popular sombrero, which could possibly double as a bumbershoot as well as fashionable headgear.


By and large, 2007 wasn't what I would necessarily call a good year. For the most part, 2007 sucked with the tenacity of a vampire trying to bulk up for a heavyweight title fight. It's been a physical, spiritual, and emotional struggle pretty much from the firing of the starting gun until this very moment. It's certainly not worthy of purchasing a new set of steel-belted radials or inflating the blimp and flying it around the friendly skies kind of good year. I cannot personally verify that they still manufacture those kind of years. Perhaps they've been moved to some off-planet factory staffed by interplanetary migrant workers in some galaxy farther away than that shit they cussed and discussed in Stars Trek and Wars.


As far as new music is concerned, 2007 was rather dismal or maybe I've had too much ground clutter clouding my personal Doppler radar to hear the good stuff. Even when I put my few functional brain cells to the task of coming up with the obligatory best of '07 lists for boards frequented by music geeks like myself, I struggled to come up with a mere ten titles worthy of mention. Sure, Motorhead released yet another live album that kicks like a mule, but it was basically the audio companion to the DVD that was previously released. With some level of reflection, I remembered next to nothing about more than half of the titles on my list and that made me question the validity of the list itself. The only one that truly left a lasting impression on me this year was "There, I Said It!" by perennial YPS!! favorite, Tommy Womack. It's truly a masterpiece by one of the finer songwriters in the music world today.


Since I only see a handful of movies and only visited an actual movie theater once this year, I won't even attempt to slap together a list of good movies. Although I will say that Sicko was a damn fine film that left me simultaneously feeling enlightened, terrified and even more paranoid than usual about the future. Television is an even more desolate landscape of entertainment unless you're one of the supposed millions that loves "reality" television programs that seem to have little or nothing to do with reality. I will never be confused with those people, because I think the trend and the programs suck.


So aside from the entertainment, I guess that leaves my own private version of reality. The mere concept of "reality" generally induces a pained expression and a stout amount of scratching the noggin as I don't do too well with reality. Like most folks in this day and age, the workplace takes up a significant amount of my waking hours and leaves little time for whatever it is that well-adjusted folks do with their free time. I tend to wind my way through my personal rut like a lab rat in a maze clinging to the hazy idea of a finish line. Once there, I realize that I don't do well with down time as it gives me time to think and when I think, it's often hazardous to my mental and emotional well-being. Imagine file footage of the Hindenburg and you'll have an accurate idea of what it's like.


As much as I claim to hate it, I tend to function better with a schedule dictated to me by the powers-that-be rather than carpe diem-ing along with my own agenda. Unfortunately, I am not one to hop out of the sheets, fresh as a daisy ready to seize and/or pluck the day with a white-knuckled grip of enthusiasm. As each new day unfurls itself, I tend to greet it with a heavy dose of contempt and sincere uneasiness simply because that is what I know and what I do. S.O.P. for a faulty-wired fire trap of a bastage like myself.


Even in these mostly cloudy skies, I will add that there have been some bright stars that even I could see without the help of conventional astronomy equipment. They are people who make the days tolerable in their own special ways. Rather than provide a comprehensive list that would ultimately be incomplete and make me feel like a bigger schmuck than I am, I will just offer an open-ended thank you. I figure anyone still reading this long-winded psychobabble deserves said word of thanks and there are others who probably do not regularly read YPS!! that have crossed my path who are also guilty of making this world a much better place. Although they obviously won't see it here, they have earned VIP seating in my blackened heart.


As the year grinds to an eventual halt, I'm trying to leave as much undesirable personal debris behind and work on being a better person with a more positive (GASP!) outlook. In other words, I am hoping that 2008 is more like a monkey jockey matinee at the Sunday jackass races than electric fan castration, but being a pessimistic cynic, I'm not placing any bets on it.


In closing, I will offer you two pieces of information:


1) Given a choice between a gun, a rose, and a lavish deli tray, always choose the deli tray. If it's a cheese spread, go for the gun and demand something better.


2) When you insult the hot dog salesman, you insult us all.

On The Way To, And In, Branson, MO

1. Peace, Bro.
2. I'm a personal friend of Tommy Womack
3. X-caliber, keepin' it real
4. Bus vid!
5. Sloth, or deer? You decide.

An Unconventional...Part II

This sleigh-looking tray was full of goodies when it arrived for Christmas from one of our vendors. I was surprised when I got back to the office today to find that no one had claimed the "sleigh". It's metal, and reminded me of the treasure chest I decorated for my boy to store all of his treasures in. So, I grabbed it and ran!


I still had some gold paint, glue, and fake jewels from the treasure chest so I took a before image, and then got busy on my idea. I brightened up the gold that was already there, and added jewels.





See, the boy and I like us some movies. What better way to transport our goodies and DVDs than in a swanky sleigh? PLUS, I didn't even touch the other side so that the boy could add his own creative touch.

An Unconventional Christmas Post From An Unconventional Blog

I took this photo and sat on it for weeks, unable to do anything with it. Nothing I considered seemed to do it justice. Eventually I cropped it and sent it to a fellow blogger suggesting it could be used for something they might have a need for and that I myself wouldn't likely be using it.

Well, here I am posting it on the blog. And to the little fellow that was unknowingly the subject of this photo; Merry Christmas to you. - Bloggy











If This Is You

If this is you
Merry Christmas to you
May you find happiness
In all that you do

Sometimes you’re just a little kid
In a great big ole world
All of life’s madness, craziness
Spun up
and muddied
and swirled

Taking it bite-by-bite
And
day-by-day
‘cause it’s the only way
You can stomach
the pain

You think maybe a nibble
And a taste will do ya
But the hunger inside
It gnaws you in two, yea

And so you sit and you drone
Feeling all alone
And the throne in which you glide
Provides not even the best of a bumpy-ass ride

With your eyes downcast
Your lungs try to outlast
That hesitant cough of your desperate existence
To run and to hide only shows a lack of resistance

So just
what are
you to do?
Give into love
it survives
Down so deep
it lingers and thrives
It was the engine that got you this far, so see where it drives

Stop forcing things to see what make you
Stop kidding yourself that it takes another to save you
Stop lying to all for they see and won’t hate you
Be humble and tumble and let the drift take you
Accept that you affect the people around you in encouraging ways
The energy you use in anger and distrust confines you and binds you and strengthens the daze

If this is you
Merry Christmas to you
May you find contentment
In all that, in all that, in all that, in all that...you do


-Mr. Bloggerific Himself, 12242007

Birthday wishes from YPS!!

Happy birthday #62 to the duke of decibels, the vicar of volume, the lord of loud, the bishop of bad-assity...Lemmy.

A lovely image from Motorhead's latest slab o' rawk, Better Motorhead Than Dead...

Grrr Raff

Design for: MyFaceSpaceSuit

Imagine, one day in the future, you'll be able to order a customized MyFaceSpaceSuit of your very own. No longer will you have to bother with "updating your page". No longer will you have to directly speak to another human. Instead, a passerby will be able to take one look at you and quickly, nay instantly, determine your likes, dislikes and political affiliations.

Scenario #1: There he is, walking through the mall, all studly like. What's this?! He has a MyFaceSpaceSuit?! NO WAY!! Oh, look! He likes EMO and he wants me to have a nice weekend!! He's HAWT!! Thanks for the add indeed! *wink*

North POLE Riddle

What did Santa have a case of when Mrs. Clause rejected him after he stayed out too late with the Elves?


Not-so-subtle Hint:

It's a Disgraceland Christmas.

With all of the hoopla and general holiday crapola swirling around me in the workplace, I made my usual lowest common denominator approach to life as far as decorating. The Charlie Brown (or Phil Collins/Ernest T. Bass action figure) and his tiny ass tree figure has been on display all year and I pulled my Parisian bordello gold tree out of the file cabinet to put on display. The irony is that I had such a struggle to keep the Hershey's peanut butter kisses on the tree in the past and when I brought it out of retirement, two were still clinging to the holiday shrub. My main regret is that I never located my copy of Tiny Tim's Christmas disc to torment the co-workers, because torment is what the holidays are all about.

Bah humbug!

(Note the rotting apple behind Chuck Brown. It was given as a gift to a departing co-worker. When you care enough to give the very best, give rotten produce.)


Ah, but today is a holiday that I can enthusiastically support...HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEITH RICHARDS!!

Images From Around The Bloggerific Workplace

The bottom of the Central Office vacuum cleaner. Being a computer geek, one is often asked for assistance with many, what I refer to as non-tech, items. Of the things I have repaired: a door hinge, a constantly running urinal (sorry ladies), a burned-out fuse in an ancient adding machine, and (repeatedly) vacuum cleaner belts. Regardless the number of times I replace them, I always forget which direction and have to correct it. This last time, I took a photo with the cell phone of the proper way and printed it and placed it in the cleaning closet. It's all about efficiency.

There is a new addition (or two) to the collection of toys since the last image upload. (Please leave the change, I need it for my Dr. Pepper fix.)



The one and only fan I have in the office. Sorry, no autographs did I sign for him. (The other thing held a small clock that died. I plan on some day taking apart my webcam and mounting in it to make it a nice, stylish, stand. Lovely, don't you think? It's a good thing.

OH HELL YES!!

2008 is going to have one kick ass start.

Don't be a douchebag, pre-order your copy now.

Parts is parts.

It's like a cross between Norman Bates, a sex doll and something that completely defies category.

The Folded Sticker Says...Part Dew

As it turns out, yes, Bob was hopping with them. And, who could blame him? Of course he might do well with a nice hair cut and change of clothes but The Folded Sticker encourages a life of non-judgemental being. Judging a person by the wear-and-tear of their sticky outer covering is unnecessary and therefore a waste of good sticker-message searching time.

Judge not, and seeketh that sticker message lest yee be Goo Goned on your sticky backside!




Addition: The Folded Sticker thought that in light of all the upcoming holiday meals, I might should add the Quote of the Day. So, here it is, the Quote of the Day:

"Any good meal is just a digestive track away from a stinking pile of shit." -Bloggerific, 12112007

Introducing: The Folded Sticker Says...

Many times (many, MANY times) in the hallways of the gargantuan Home Office of YPS!!, the staff have discussed in whispery tones a deity known only within certain circles. Certain privileged circles only are privy to even the slightest shreds of scarcely documented information pertaining to...The Folded Sticker.

Over time, we've learned this; The deity, known only to us as The Folded Sticker, reveals to us (within the circle, mind you) the secrets of humanity and of time and spice. Yes, that's correct, time and spice. What would seem, to the untrained eye and the shallow of spirit, as a mere "folded sticker", is actually communication from up above. Somewhere, just over the Reignbow. (We'll get into the Reignbow a little later; suffice it to say, we really don't know shit about it.)

Today, the Inner Circle (known as Gaseous Erectus), would like to reveal the first of many secrets confided to us directly from....The Folded Sticker.





The orange color, we assure you, is NOT by accident. The Folded Sticker is WISE, and always chooses color, as well as shape, to best convey the message at hand. Clearly you can see the phallic designs of this original message, the bold coloring to catch the eye, and...the message itself..."Thou Shg".

Over the millennium, we've determined this to be a form of "deity shorthand" wherein "thou shg" should read (to the kids that are, you know, hip to the shorthand):

Thou Shag!!


So, children, go forth, and um, you know, shag baby, yeah!!





That is all. The Folded Sticker has spoken.

Well I'll be damned...

if it isn't time to call in the special projects team to wish Mr. Bloggerific Himself a damn happy birthday.

As a card-carrying member of the association, I offer the secret hand shake, a box of Red Hots of a particularly good vintage (July 2007), and a round of general wise-assity to remind the old boy of his aged status.

So in closing, I say happy birthday, you old dirty buzzard and offer you this advice. You'd best close the wings and/or cover your rig, because it's cold out there.

UPDATED! Actual banter heard in the Disgraceland waiting room...

Actual phrases heard in the workplace within a sixty minute time frame.


--"Peter got four new inches and I am so jealous."



--"With this wind, Baby Jesus is probably flying all over my yard."

(This is where you should take time to digest and reflect)



Let us continue.

Okay, to those needing the full context, de-smutified versions of the above. The first quote was the office manager talking about the snow that hit where her son lives in Wisconsin. The second one is the next door office neighbor talking about his Christmas decorations and how the high winds might be adjusting them. However, my smut detector filtered out the other psychobabble and jumped on these quotes like cops on Rodney King.

In the event that there was any question, winter has arrived and it's bad when the gorilla that you have hanging on your office wall horks your Stones winter gear.









If anyone is still confused and insists on showing any trace of enthusiasm for this time of year, let me remind you of this fact--Winter sucks!!










UPDATE!!
A co-worker was standing at the front desk outside of my office and in the general chit-chat, someone said "Why would a person bury 30 people in their yard?"

I chimed in with "Because 40 wouldn't fit."

That was followed by complete silence. Either they ignored my banter or it totally derailed their train.

UPDATED: Inspiration From The Comments...now with AUDIO (and video)

Many times I've stated that the folks that comment on this blog are what make the blog and without you, and your commenting ways, we got nuttin'. I still believe that is true.

The staff at YPS!! strive to bring you a Led Zeppelin/Smashing Pumpkins-styled blog. By that I mean, we strive to bring you the light and the dark (No turkey dinner comments please). We attempt to bring you the good and the bad (shush!). We try to bring you all aspects of our twisted lives, in oblong shaped packaging on the brink of explosion, cascading fiery droplets to Earth below. [Originally I was going to use a smashing of pumpkins reference here, but somehow "shooting our seed" didn't seem to convey the type of image I wanted.]

With all that, I present the following work: [Please Note: This is not a direct letter to anyone, or about anyone, it's just a "what if" type deal.]

For best results: Please read with Johnette Napolitano's (of Concrete Blonde) voice in mind.

A Wave in Hell (Signals that You Know Me)

A wave in Hell signals that you know me
Collusion brought out by feelings that you’re lonely
An unfair deal in uncivilized borders

You know the Devil he don’t care
The Devil’s without care
He’s without the worry and the fear
The very thoughts that keep us alive

He wades about in molten frustration
Of aspects from the life he passed by
So look to the sky my friend
And be weary of those upon you
They’re not as they appear (and wearily they adore you)
Take comfort in obscurity
Let animosity be your shield

A nod in Hell signals that you’re with me
Shipyards down there don’t allow no unions
No room for gatherings, or strength in numbers

You know the Devil takes delight
In his cut and his divide
The Devil doesn’t care
He’s already got the bosses’ hide
It’s the fat of the fire and the sizzle of his eyes
He’s not crazy from the heat
It’s time you realized

Earth is Purgatory and your fanboy status won’t save you
From all the things that you have done
You’ll scream and you’ll stew in a vat of "should have"
But neither those nor "could haves"
Will save you from the toil

You won’t work your way out of this hold
No upper management looking for promotion
No one here gives damn about a little devotion

No prospects to bribe
No funds to embezzle
No backs to stab (you didn’t even have friends where you came from)

To tip your hat in Hell signals your consent
Behaviors from above, practiced here
Simply increase the speed of your rapid descent

Hope you brought your beads
Stashed away some leaves (of an edited Tome)
Some link to the past

Some remnant of home



-Mr. Bloggerific Himself, 11242007 (inspired from Brando's "On the Waterfront" and a blog post with Bone Machine's comment - "When you get there, wave at me. I'll be the one complaining about the heat.")


I give you...the Big Dipper. MMmmmmmmm!! (And yes, this is how ALL Kentuckians are. We write poetry, make obscure musical references, and dine in swanky establishments...and post it all.)

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