Here's What I See

I'm back. I missed me too. OK, I missed you too, don't fret.

So what am I seeing today? I see that two dear friends, Hi-Def and S@y, share a Friday birthday this week. That makes a lot of sense though. Saty and Sean are intellectual and creative heavyweights; probably the only people I address by the title "guru." And I mean that; dudes keep me balanced.

But December also commemorates the screaming birth of Big Dave Wave, the Manniyer and Gi-Gi. Add in my bad ass grandmother, Hank, and the Jesus, and December may be the most weighty month of birth all year long; all that late winter snuggling coming to fruition. I'll even give it up for my first cousin Bruce whose birthday was on the first. December shout-out-name-drops. December is looking a lot like Christmas!

I also see that you think I haven't really been on top of my game of late. I hear the carefully worded questions and I appreciate the kind nudges. Mostly I'm lying in wait. Waiting for the signs and omens to align. Waiting for the injuries to heal. Waiting for the ideas to settle in a logical fashion. Waiting for the mourning to cease. Thanks to everyone for the nudges and offers. Some I may follow-up on, others I will pass on. But thank you anyhow, especially for the kind words.
"you're not allowed to have a slump!
why? because i said so!"

- Unattributed
Yeah, I also see that I did call the current status a "slump," but I've done that before...a million times before. Worries do not exist, however. My problem is I measure myself against my own impossible standards. Always have - always will. At least somebody has some goddamn standards around here. Hands dirty, shoes worn, mind flexed, sleeping like a corpse. Fear not.

I aksi see that it's that lame-o time of year where the Stupid Lists appear. But not only are there Year's Best bullshit lists this year, but somehow we've been conned into the Decade's Best bullshit: Y2K through the end of 2009. Best band, best album, best book, best news story, best dunker (as in the slam dunk), best gadget, etc., etc. Seriously, it gets on my nerves.

Let me say it here and now so we can be done with this forever: I am the best. Case closed. Year. Decade. Century. Millennium. History of mankind. Best dog, best gadget, best polka EP. I'm all that. Shit, I've been the G.O.A.T. since the Big Goddamn Bang, don. But, I share the title with you. People, get some self-esteem, do some work. Don't be all fake-ass cocky and arrogant like a shitty rapper or interweb "celebrity," but understand your own self-worth. We doin' work like Spike Lee. We're sick like Jesus. Damn! We are the future.
Emailings Interlude (you may dial PC Police now):
Pregnant Friend: I predict a boy! Why? Certain foods are no longer appealing and others are. Based upon this alone, I predict a boy. It does not like veggies and craves fried chicken. Specifically does not like regular chicken -- just fried chicken: A junkfood junkie already!

Ty: Okay. I predict a black! Why? Fried chicken, doy. Does it like grape soda and Kools too?

Pregnant Friend: It could be a white trash baby if it likes grape soda and Funions!

Ty: Oh shit, lady! You're having a Juggalo!

Last night I saw on the the TeeVee one of these "Code Red fea. the Tea Party Patriots*" rallys. CSPAN made me laugh so hard! I guess this is how the conservatives saw the liberals during the Bush years. Hand-written signs some containing misspelled words, tons of lectern screeching, and more chants than the Final Four. Oh, Michele Bachmann was there too! She's crazy as hell and I love how fucking nuts she is. Best was their rally call: "Listen to Me!" which came out as, "Bwhaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!" White people are funny as hell. And these mopes were classic Jerry Lewis in his goddamn prime (except not Jewish or rich or intelligent or truthful). That shit as an indictment on our organizations dedicated to education. Education failure. Freedom to be dumb. But it was funny.

See? I'm back. In fact, I never left. I was right here watching. Watching you. Checking to see who was going to produce and who wasn't. I'm like Santa, making lists and shit. 'Cept I'm real.

You're welcome. Onward, Middlespace Cadets!

* Best hip-hop artist of the decade: Code Red fea. the Tea Party Patriots