Monday, February 28, 2005
I moved into a new place about a week ago. The landlady went over to my old place earlier today, and a fat Hawaiian woman who lived about three houses down waddled over to her and said, "You have to start screening your tenants more carefully. That last guy was really spooky. He was a white supremist."
"He's not a white supremist," my landlady told her. "I've known him for years. He's a nice guy."'
"No, he's a WHITE SUPREMIST!" Queen Lilliuokalani insisted. She went on to implicate herself in BURNING DOWN the house right next to the one I was renting, which (until today) was an unsolved crime. "I warned that guy, too. And look what happened to his house. You REALLY need to screen your tenants more carefully."
Mind you, I never shared two words with this woman. I'd never even SEEN her—the idea that she's a "fat Hawaiian woman" comes strictly from my landlady's description. And I highly doubt anyone in the neighborhood had any idea of my identity—I hadn't been there long enough, and the only contact I'd had with anyone was to say "Hi" to the next-door neighbor (on the side that wasn't burnt down) once or twice.
But the big jiggly Pineapple Turd sees a white guy with a shaved head, and she starts threatening hate crimes. Unbelievable.
The world is upside-down. And the reason I write is to turn it right-side-up. Join me, will you? I'm having trouble lifting it all by myself.
Posted by jg @ 03:44 AM PST []
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
PORTLAND, OR—Professional woman-beater, bird-dogger, penile exhibitionist and part-time author Jim Goad has finally settled a long-running controversy—he is not now, nor has he ever been, a racist. As proof, Goad tenders this candid photo of him with his arm around The Black Man and flashing the peace sign during a recent late-night pub crawl.
"Racist!?! Shit, the boy ain't no racist!" said The Black Man. "Just look at the picture, foo! He got his arm around me and is flashing the peace sign. Do that look like a racist to you?" When queried about Goad's shaven skull and "peckerwood" prison-yard attire, The Black Man merely shook his head and said, "The boy got hair issues. The boy got some serious hair issues. And he like the denim. The boy like denim. He my nigga."
"That's right," Goad chimed in. "I'm his nigger. I'm his niggly-wiggly-piggly nigger. So y'alls needs to step off with this 'racist' shit. I've probably fucked more sistas than homeboy here."
Goad was later seen giving a five-dollar bill to The Black Man and telling him to "scram."
Posted by jg @ 01:00 PM PST []
Monday, February 14, 2005
My body is a frickin' mess right now.
About a week ago, I awoke to find a HUGE red spider bite under my left armpit. Oregon spiders are launching a concerted offensive against everyone I know. The swelling...and the pain...and the shame...remain.
Then on Wednesday night, a seemingly mild-mannered girl dug her teeth into my left tricep during an otherwise tender moment, causing a baseball-sized green bruise.
And last night after bending down to feed Cookie, I SMASHED my skull into a shelf corner while standing up, causing a three-inch gash on my head. I had a friend apply some "Liquid Skin" goop and butterfly sutures.
Undeterred, I don my three-dollar straw cowboy hat and head into the foggy night, seeking companionship and BJs.
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Hank Williams III smoked me out the other night. Whatta mensch!
Posted by jg @ 12:52 PM PST []
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Yesterday, when she was almost 28 in dog years, I marched my pugly princess into a local vet to be spayed. Nearly a year ago, her dog-gina plopped out nine darling babies, all of whom are happy and healthy. But it isn't healthy for her to continue toting around a functional cunt-cave, plus the bloodbath which greets each round of estrus is tiresome.
The vet's secretary, who has Cookie's vital stats on file, quoted me $49.95 for the procedure. Hours later, I received a phone call stating that since this is an older dog who is currently in heat, I can come in and pay them $114.95 and retrieve my now-barren pooch.
She only goes into heat twice a year, and since I was mopping up her vadge blood only three months ago, there's no way she was in heat. Then I espied the doctor's chart where he scolded his secretary for quoting such a low price and that he was "losing money" on jobs like this. He didn't have much of a defense for the "losing money" quote, but he insisted Cookie was in heat. "You wanna see her uterus?" he taunted me. "I have it in a plastic bag...I can show you her uterus."
I demanded he fetch not only the uterus, but my groggy, now-cuntless pet. So that's a picture of the uterus in a plastic bag. I stormed out of the office, pet and uterus in tow. Any dog-uterus experts out there? Can anyone tell whether he was lying?
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Looks like Fantagraphics has agreed to finally reprint Trucker Fags, so you can stop harassing them. And Jim Blanchard is selling the cover art.
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Enjoy some HOT MUSLIM TWAT.
Posted by jg @ 02:16 PM PST []
Monday, February 7, 2005
The lovely Patty, even though she's nursing her ailing colon, has finally untangled enough techno-wires to allow me to resume posting here. May our shared Celtic god bless her fair Irish nipples, although she's involved in a mutually nurturing relationship and thus will be unable to taste my highly photogenic cock.
Apparently the new server keeps auto-changing file permissions, which is what's been stalling things so far. We still have many miles to go before the Lounge is working properly. But we're on our way, ye kind hairless faeries fluttering through the cyberfog.
I'd like everyone to harass Fantagraphics, who sold out of Trucker Fags in Denial in six months yet refuses to reprint it. I don't even have a copy to call my own.
I'll be releasing three books this year—a reprint of ANSWER Me!, the Gigantic Book of Sex, and another one I can't tell you about yet. There's also some news on the Shit Magnet movie front, as well as a burgeoning TV deal which I won't tell you about because I can't fucking stand you.
JG's myspace profile. I will IGNORE ALL FRIEND REQUESTS.