Month: April 2011

Errata and Last Night in Review

Ah, Passover. You have to love Passover. I know I do. Lately, I have offended many people by telling them that they need to stop wishing me a Happy Easter while I am completing my purchase. Really, just because my skin is dark and I am not wearing a turban,, burkha, or some Shaolin robe does not mean that I have accepted your god as my “…own personal jesus…

I am pretty sure that if I were a person who believed in sin, then Lust would be my favorite.

I have been reading other blogs on this site. I am impressed with the artistry of their pages and the apparently ability that some have to add photos without distorting their text. I have not mastered that and it is really making me crazy. My OCD is starting to go berserk.

This week, I have been watching a lot of the History Channel. This is not odd, but this week has been all about God vs. Satan and other Judeo-Christian stuff. Personally, I am all about watching the items pertaining Judaica; the other side, not so much. However, the information on Hell is rather interesting in a pseudo-pagan sort of way. This morning, as I type my blog, the program in the background providing distraction for me is on the Ten Commandments. I find myself typing during commercials. In honor of Mosaic Law, I have decided to institute a change in the operations of The Rothechilde Orchard and Vineyards. From now on, if a person is homeless and starving and without means, you may eat freely from the orchard and vineyard. Indeed, you may eat your fill. However, you may not take anything from the fields. You may not bring containers of any sort to remove any extra. In an addendum that was recommended by my brilliant legal team, you may not move onto the grounds. One the one hand that would be trespassing. On the other, you would no longer be homeless and then would no longer be eligible to eat of the bounty.

Last night, I went out to visit Manthony at one of his clubs. When I arrived, the place was pretty empty. To be honest, it was nearly dead. However, soon things began to pick up and I ordered a drink and sat near Manthony by the entrance and watched people come in. Usually, I would sit in the Very Important Xavier section that he has set aside for me so that I may enjoy my beverage and “out time” either alone with a few select friends; tonight for some reason, I chose to do otherwise.

Now, it is important for me to let you in on a little secret: Manthony owns quite a few clubs. Yet he persists in working as a bouncer in the various clubs and enjoying a sense of control behind the scenes. Why? I do not know. Personally, I thought our nation was all about blatant displays of power and dominance, maybe I have misintrepreted the last few hundred years of history. But, I digress. Before I go on, let me also tell you that this particular club is a “mixed club.” That is, the bar caters to a mixed crowd of homos and heteros. Which ever way that your door may swing, you will most likely find someone to open, enter, and exit it here. You can even find couples, triples, swingers, thingers, and things that go hump in the night here. It is a pretty decent hangout.

As I sat near the door, sipping a Captain and Coke and watching the half clothed GI Joe “stripper”/dancer doing what he considered a sexy set of moves up on a stage, an odd threesome entered the bar. There was a guy accompanied by two women. I learned later that he was the boyfriend of one of the women, but more on that later. The threesome stood at a table near the dance floor and ordered a few drinks. After about fifteen minutes, the dude approached Manthony and myself. He was motioning and moving about, not saying really much of anything. Then Manthony asked him what he wanted and the dude got close to him and whispered something to Manthony. I have no idea what it was, and do not think Manthony knew what the drunken bastard was saying either. He left to go and check the door and left me with the dude.

Well, this guy stood near me and started his vogue routine and then got close to me and squeezed my bicep. Since he was drunk, I resisted the urge to pull out the Glock and pistol whip his monkey ass. Then he took my hand and had me squeeze his bicep. He stated that people get intimidated by him because he is pretty buff (the cat was pretty solid, I shall give him that). Then he made a bicep-ty muscle pose and kissed my on the cheek! Now this completely took me off guard; I was in shock and had no idea what to do at the moment. For one, the guy was not my type, he had no vagina, nice tits, and he was the type of guy walking about in a wife beater and his Toughskins jeans pulled so low that I could see his rancid boxers. If I am looking for a boy, I would rather he be pretty and well-dressed such as I am. After violating my cheeck with his flithy lips, he walked back over to his table and I decided to move to the other side of the bar.

After about an hour, I walked outside to have a clove (our wonderful state passed a ban on smoking in bars…) and saw the threesome standing out in the rain and waiting for a cab. The kissy man was too drunk to fuck and was sitting on the steps of the exit with a coat over his head to protect him from the rain. He was near passed out and leaning against the chunky lady of the threesome, who was going on about her boyfriend being mad at her. The other woman, thin and attractive in a Joan Jett-gone-jean-jacket kind of way was standing and waiting for the cab. As it turns out, she was the drunk-kisser’s girlfriend, had moved to Westland, Michigan from Georgia to be with this guy, and apparently she was having regrets. She told me that she gave up two men to move here to be with the crumpled mass on the ground and was already sick of his shit. I wanted to ask her if she was with the other two men simultaneously, but opted to look at the mass on the ground and pity the fact that he was not going to get to climb his lady’s ample bosom on this evening most likely.

At this point, I finished my clove, went back inside and decided that I should say my good night to Manthony and head home for the night. It was an interesting evening…both a reminder of why I do not go out as much anymore, and one that makes think that it is time to go out threesome shopping; if that drunk fool could score a night that he was going to miss because he was too drunk, then I am certain that it is time for someone such as myself to get back into the game.


No Dye or Incredibly Lazy Saleswomen

I went to a local hair and beauty supply store earlier today. The plan was to get some dye for my lovely locks. Unfortunately, every dye that I picked out was a dye that would not work apparently. I am not sure whether the dyes would not actually work of if I was being casually dismissed by the horrible women that worked in the shop.

Dyeing my hair is a huge problem. For one, it is very dark. The main problem is the second issue: the density or thickness of the locks make rinsing any bleaching products out difficult so that any attempt to lighten my hair in order to dye it never fully gets rinsed out and my hair starts to break.

Oh well…

Playing with Software

When my secretary (so wonderful, sexyy, and caring), gifted me with this new laptop, I installed a new software suite. The software is for editing photos, music, and video. The photo editor is definitely no PhotoShop, but the video program seems to do a little of what I would like from a software program.

Last night, during a bout of insomnia, I attempted to edit a video. I did get a satifactory video produced, but in order to upload via WordPress, I would need to purchase a video upgrade. Yeesh! They just keep trying to reach into my wallet for extras. However, I wass able to wrestle a little bit of cooperation from YouTube:

Now, for the record, I hate that video. My form is bad, the technique is horrible (I can do much better). And those fruity, little hops at the end make for poor zanshin. Yet, the comedy attained by my face colliding with the chair was inspiring. On another completely related note: please ignore the nasal, Michigander twang coming from my nose and mouth. Before you taunt me remember that is what you hear if you listen to my radio show, and that is also what you hear when the newscasters and the other TV people speak. We run the airwaves, beeyotches! Er…excuse me, I got a little carried away.

Now, do not got over to my YouTube page (is it called a page there?), looking for more videos, I have not put any others there yet. Although, I believe I may have subscribed to a few things like Lenore (I LOVE LENORE):

or Muse:

Seriously, what the fuck is up with that Oil of Olay commercial at the beginning. When I want to see fanged Teddy Bears destroy things, I need to have it as soon as possible. I do not need to see that Oil of Olay bullshit.


And now, for something completely different. Allow me to present Laura. A couple of nights ago, I ran into Laura and a few of her friends at a Samurai City coffee shop. One of the friends, I knew already. A decent fellow named Bruce. Well, the mood struck me that this could be an interesting group to chronicle and I decided to take a picture of the self-proclaimed super lesbian. We had an interesting conversation:

Laura: “I would do anything for fifteen dollars.”

Me: “Well, that is something…”

Laura: “Seriously, dude. I would punch my grandma in the face for twenty bucks.”

Me: “What?!”

Laura: “Well, I would give her half…”

Laura is rather fun. She grabs random boobs (oddly, from other girls who would either punch grandmas or pay Laura to do it for them. There is a strange fad afoot!), she has baudy language, and has nice cleavage. Laura was annoyed that it has taken her so long to appear in this blog as I stated she would be appearing. You will be hearing more about Laura. Definitely. We share a mutual hatered of local, pseudo artist, hipster douchebag.

Trying to decide whether to attend a party this evening (one that I found suspiciously potentially an orgy since the plan was to cover all of the windows with cardboard), Laura was accompanied by a few friends. Apparently, she and the others were Catholic School girls back during their formative academic years through High School. Declaring how much they hated wearing jumpers, they shameless destroyed the images that I had previously formed about Catholic School life. I guess the nuns were mean and not sexy. However, this relevation from their previous experience has not deterred my own preconceptions of what life in Catholic school actually is like.

My Previous Concept of Catholic School Life

Before I go on, I should be fair and point out that Bruce is not and was not a Catholic School girl. I felt the need to inform you of this as I did not want you to see the picture coming up with Bruce in it and then picture him in a Catholic School girl’s jumper. Fortunately, stating that has not caused me to imagine him in the jumper, despite my vivid imagination because I have no idea what this jumper looks like. From the description the girls gave me last night, it sounds as if they were wearing strange overalls. I thought of a Catholic School for hillbillies.

Rachel (I think that is her name) was another of Laura’s compatriots on this evening. I say that I think that Rachel is her name because she initially told me that it was something else, then said her name was Rachel, and then commented that lying was a horrible way to make a first impression. Rachel has recently had a birthday and Laura was trying to get her to join her in paying to go to a local strip club to see tits. I suggested that they simply go into the restroom together and do so for free. They felt the conditions of the bathroom were not sanitary enough to go on carrying out such things.

Alias: "Rachel"

When I began taking pictures, “Rachel” desired to have this solo image of her taken. However, I did require that she stop drinking from the giant coffee mug that she was holding up in front of her face. This cup was gigantic. Really! All you would have seen was some blonde hair, a white chin and a gigantic mug bottom in the picture. Although shady and deceptive, Rachel was a treat. She and Laura decided that they needed to take a picture together. As this was going to be a part of my blog, they wanted to appear as a united front, I guess.

Laura and Rachel

When I started out my editing process, I guess I made their faces too contrasty. A horrible mistake! You see, when posing for the pictures, the two lovelies insisted on making the oddest of faces the whole time. Really, no simple smiles, evil glares, or sensual tongue-tease manipulations. They were strictly about the comedy faces. During the Catholic School conversation, it was Laura and Rachel who began to tell me that all of the girls at their Catholic School were whores. Well, they were “celibate, blow job whores.” They explained to me how this could happen. Initially, Rachel stated that this was a new thing for her to hear. However, Laura reminded me that Rachel was indeed a notorious compulsive liar whom had given me a false name when we first met. Rachel admitted that all of the above was trued and said that she must have caught onto the blow jobs later, they were not as prevalent for her class as they were for Laura’s class. In other words, apparently Rachel was not witnessing all of the hot oral action that was happening during vespers that which Laura was privy.

Katie and Bruce

Last but not least, allow me to present an old friend, Bruce, and a new friend Katie. Katie was also one of the former Catholic school girls, and she did not lie to me about her name. She also confirmed the blow job stories. When the picture taking began, Katie wanted to be pictured with Bruce in a heart-warming scene of community. That or she did not want people having me show them her picture and stating that I spent the night violating her person. Heh. Who knows? Katie was a peach. She took it upon herself to introduce herself to me and was generally a very friendly person. I am not implying that the other ladies were not nice or friendly, but they were a bit more baudy and outgoing, were Katie was curious as to whether I knew how to spell her name and involving herself in casual pleasantries. Now, you may begin to think that Katie is an innocent. I would seriously doubt that as she was on her way to attending the cardboard-covered-window-orgy party. Bruce, on the other hand, I have know for ages. He is a laidback and generally cool fellow. In all of the years that I have know Bruce, I have never seen him frown, scowl, utter a cruel word, or eat a piece of chicken. The latter is awesome seeing that I am vegetarian.

Another Boring Day, Another Exciting App Use!

Here is a strange fact; I do have a WordPress app for my iPhone. In fact, so far I am pleased with it’s workings. I have been avoiding using the app because I was not satisfied with other elements of my site (blog, whatever this whole production is called).

Now that I have completed that page, I can happily avoid paying attention to this boring staff update meeting and do other things. More important things. Like, update my blog while Veep Smeagol goes on and on as to why he deserves a secretary of his own.

Apparently, I am needed to resolve an issue now. I am not pleased with this distraction. I shall return later in the evening, perhaps.

About Time

Greetings and Salutations! At long last, I have suitably completed another page. And so ends a horrid bit of cognitive torment and now I can start to write in earnest. And read in earnest. And “Frank and Ernest.” (If you do not get that, some of us will hum a couple of bars of “The Girl from Ipanema” until you finish Googling…)

What I am babbling on about is that I have completed the page that provides details on The Rothechilde Foundation. I have been struggling to add enough content so that I would feel comfortable showing it to the world, and now, I have done so. I am pleased. Now, I can go off to sleep and get ready for another long day.

Kids + jujitsu = Oy gevalt

In about thirty minutes, I will be off to perfom my duties as Foundation president, and jujitsu instructor. Typically, this would be a stress-free, exciting opportunity; I love jujitsu and love to teach it. However, this is a class full of children ranging from age five to age eleven. They have little to no discipline.

Unless I make the class an aerobic “karate” class, they kids lose focus and get chaotic. Since I went out training with senior-level students yesterday, I am not sure how much aerobic karate I am up for today.

C’est la vie. At least this cass is only an hour long.

Random Thoughts and Possible Week in Review

The last week has been a rather busy one. Between my daily tasks at the Foundation, preparing for what will surely be a horrid year for cherries and apples (maybe I need to reconsider the vineyards…), and my chemistry course at a local University. I barely have enough time to explore porn, post random tweets, or enjoy a bit of absinthe while playing the part of a tiny Lego Jedi in a Playstation 3 game. Oy gevalt! I need a vacation.

I agree with the Dead Kennedys. Kinky sex does make the world go around.

It was recently brought to my attention that when the link that indicates a page attached to this site (blog? blite? whatever this is…), a message is displayed stating that the page is not present. Well, it is there. Only, it cannot be seen by anyone yet. I know, I know…I could temporarily remove the link until the page is ready, but where is the fun in that? Just kidding. To be completely honest (which, by my indication could imply that I may not in fact be completely honest), I have been driving myself into a fit because of that page. You see, in addition to my charming sexiness, narcissism and occasional wit, I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Later in life, it was indicated that I also have ADHD. What does this have to do with my page? Well, I have not finished that one page and it has made it difficult for me to sit and write a blog until I can finish that page. That page is a humongous source of anxiety to me. Upon further thought, having to face the prospect of said page has made me really want a drink. Maybe absinthe is soon on the horizon.

I hate to write numbers. Unless I am doing math. If I am writing, I like to write the number out rather than the numeric representation. Mentioning the Playstation 3 because I am compelled to write out the name as it is rather than suit myself and write the number out gives me significant cognitive dissonance. This is what happens when one has conflicts in compulsions. …and people wonder while I like sedatives.

That last paragraph was difficult to write. I know what I wanted to say and now wonder if I was able to properly convey the message. If I was, hooray. If I was not, then obviously you are having trouble understanding me at such a distance. I recommend moving to an Eastern corner of the room, it may help.

What the Hell is going on with all of these people asking for the President’s birth certificate? Really? Have we really gotten so paranoid about immigrants that we have to ask the President of the United States to show us his papers?

Currently, I am watching WWE Smackdown while I write this entry. There are twenty sweaty, musclebound men fondling each other in a big playpen in their underwear. This is entertainment. We tell boys that this is how men behave. Then we are surprised when we find Tommy groping Johnny’s basket while making out under the pool table. Pray out the gay! Why is he gay? I never raised him that way!!! Well, if you give your little boy half-naked men to idolize, do not be surprised if he has a liberal approach to love.

People often ask me if I am gay. I never answer their question. At least, not outright. I typically answer by showing the person a porn video on my iPhone. If it is a guy, I will show him some hot lesbians. If it is a chick, I show her some hot lesbian porn. No one ever gets what I mean. They think I mean that I like hot lesbians in porn. Which is true, but not why I showed them that. Showing the other porn is more personal and like foreplay to me. If I share that, I may want to see you naked.

Well, I have gone on long enough for this evening, methinks. Tomorrow, maybe I will try to tackle that page and stop driving myself crazy about it. More than likely, I will not.

More About Me Via A Survey from Khaos

I am a narcissist. I am a narcissist and I love to share my take on the world with anyone who cares to listen (and with those who really do not give a flying fuck). I am also a narcissist who likes to write… a lot. When trying to come up with ways to introduce my personality to you, dear reader, I felt it would be good to offer my opinions on a variety of things and see how it turned out. With that stated, allow me to tell you a tale…

Long ago, there was a Pirate Scourge of the Great Lakes. This Pirate created a MySpace profile at the suggestion of a friend, used it for about a week and abandoned the profile for a year or so. Later, this same friend got the Pirate and his better half to involve themselves in the MySpace thing. The better half created a profile, the Pirate returned to his old page (if you wish to read more back story, continue on, if not, scroll down a bit). Still later, for the sake of privacy and literary license, the Pirate’s doppelganger returned to the Pirate’s life, arriving like an absinthe freight train headed down the Pirate’s throat. This was the announcement of Xavier to the world and it was good.

Being the person that I am, it can be a bit difficult for me to make friends. I can be a bit sarcastic and supercilious. Those who have seen beyond the veil (and possess brains) grew to understand and appreciate my brilliance and dared to become a friend of yours truly. One such person was a wonderfully fiendish woman with the name of GKhaos. While searching for friends, I decided to search for anyone who may have an interest in Harley Quinn (that lovely sidekick of the Joker’s); it was during that search that a picture with the name “GKhaos” next to it showed up. The picture was of Harley Quinn. Khaos, and a psychotic clown? Of course I had to take a look. Going to her page, I discovered that this was the page of a bitter and angry individual who only created the page because her friends were starting to drive her a little bit nuts asking her to create a page. The page was covered in interesting graphics; some of the things written as descriptions flew over my head like Old Crow. Usually, I try to avoid people of whom I fear are probably smarter than myself, but I could not resist… And history was created. I had found a twisted, clown cohort who understood my take on the “Great Life Joke” and we became a bit chummy.

Soon, however, she had to leave MySpace (I believe she went off to study some alien technology that would aid her in creating her own “pokies”). Yet, she did gift me with the wonderful Rhonda-Maria, a new friend whom I grew rather fond of….. To get to the point, Rhonda-Maria boasted that a blog post from the wonderful GKhaos was to appear in her blog. Thinking that she was perpetrating some kind of cruel joke on your humble narrator (as she is a rather cunning and shifty lesbian), I warned her that she should not be telling fibs. As it turns out, she was not telling fibs and she did indeed post a blog written by none other than GKhaos. A blog that should have I commented properly, would have taken a lot of space in Rhonda-Maria’s comment box. So, I decided to post my literary response here, in my own blog. I fear that you will be a little short-changed in this deal as you cannot see what her responses were, but this blog is not about her, it is all about me (and I am a narcissist, you know) So without further ado, shall we begin?….

“My Response to GKhaos”

Please share your opinions on the following:

1 – Head

Your response to this mirrored mine in the beginning: “I freaking love head! I’m not going lie or pretend to be all prissy.” However, our opinions begin to diverge at this point a little bit. You see, I am a person who not only appreciates two heads between his legs (I cannot wait for you who are slow on the draw to catch up with the puns…heh), but I love to reciprocate. Yet, I must agree with you on the: “I love going down, it’s my favorite thing.” However, it is not just the guys. In fact, you chicas have the blow-job game so sewn up that guys begin to think of the act as a reward or obligation. Now, do not get me wrong, we gentlemen do have our short-comings (not I; my junk is tremendous. Just ask Shaved-Belly Sheniqua), but the Sword of truth wielded by the dear, blind Lady Justice is two-sided and cuts both ways. All I am saying is: before we enter this debate, we all need to have clean hands (unless said hands are coated with some sort of edible massage lubricant).

One other point on which we agree is the cleanliness issue. Again, this goes both ways. No one wants a sewer or diseased mouth on their privates, but then no one wants their mouth turned sewer-y or worse by said privates. This one is more for the guys, however. If you want to get the sucky-sucky, at least wash your fucking nutsack. One last thing; I do appear to be a bit pickier in the partner requirements, more than tongue mouth and lips are necessary; I need a pretty face because I like to watch…heh heh.

2 – Tacos

Being a vegetarian, I do not get to eat tacos often. Sometimes, I will have my chef make them out of that soy meat stuff, and they are delicious! Yet, I must agree that after the first bite of a hard shell taco, you are the unfortunate possessor of Taco Salad. Speaking of which, what in the Hell is Taco Salad? And who came up with it? Crushed tacos on a plate? Maybe it went down like this:

Murry: “Hey, Alexander! Got those tacos for table three? They’re getting a bit impatient!”

Alexander: “Yeah, I got ’em right here! Shit!”

Murry: “Fool! You dropped them, and they broke into pieces! Table three is going to leave!”

Alexander: “Hey, relax, baby-nuts! Look, we take the tacos and put them in this fresh bowl. Now we crush the shells a little bit more and, peep this, we call it an authentic Mexican dish: ‘‘Taco Salad’.”

Murry: “Bloody fucking genius! But what about those flecks of dirt? Oh, wait! We can cover this shit in sour cream and guacamole and the chumps will never notice!”

Alexander: “Now you are thinking, my friend. You know, we should start our own restaurant. We can sell food that we advertise as Mexican food and we’ll even give the food names that Mexican foods have. Only, we’ll never say the food is Mexican directly. People will just eat it and shut up. If we pack enough beans in our shit, people will either eat too much or not enough, either way we sell it dirt cheap and hire potheads to work the counters. We’ll can call ourselves: ‘Taco Bell!’”

Murry: “Fuck yeah!”

And a legend was born…..

3 – Why Joey Porter should always be a Steeler:

Who is Joey Porter and why and what is he stealing? Do we need to quickly divert funds to buffer the Foundation’s security?

4 – Gay Porn

Like GKhaos, I do love my pornography. Be it gay or straight (and not involving: children, excrement, urine, animals, or people in “furry” suits, I agree that pornography is good and should be watched with friends, alone, or in a bar if you happen to be there when I have my iPhone (which is far more convenient and cozy than a laptop). To be honest, however, I am partial to straight porn. For starters, I have not seen much male-on-male gay porn, but I cannot erase the image of sweaty Bubba hunched over some co-prisoner, or some degenerate in a gimp suit mincing about behind some wanna be hardcore punk or thug who just also happens to be a knob goblin. Besides, I agree with Elaine Benes’ take on the naked human male: “Naked, is not a good look for a man.”

Lesbian porn? I admit and agree, there appears to be a strange lacking of the “mulleted-butch dyke” in lesbian porn. Flanneled or unflanned, I do not mind the svelte blondes, brunettes, redheads, etc, and I find their discomfort in wearing the strap-on enticing in a bondage-fairy sort of way. As for the use of toys in lesbian pornography, I cannot answer why these women never know how to properly use a double-headed dildo. Why they choose to suck on them? I have no clue…latex fetish or extreme oral fix? Really, now.

Perhaps I am a bit naïve in the world of lesbians, but really do not understand why lesbians would use a dildo of any sort. To me, it seems illogical; I mean most lesbians do not really have dicks, do they? As for women who use them in what I will call “bi-porn,” they always strike me as if they are being passive-aggressive in a “nanner-nanner” sort of way. I must say, however, that I do not think that if two lesbians are getting it on, they are going to stop to suck any guy’s dick be it false or real.

5 – The Moral Ethics of Killer Clowns

“Killer Clowns have no moral ethics. They will kill you, fuck you, and then eat you if given enough time and opportunity.” I whole-heartedly agree with this sentiment. Beneath the grease paint “smile” lurks a tooth-gnashing, blood-curdling, soul-rending, murder-lust that seeps through said “smile;” catching those unaware with a misleading sense of security, so that they may do their evil deeds. GK, while I do not believe that you are a freak for wanting to sleep with Heath Ledger’s corpse, I do question your sanity on wanting to sleep with just any clown…and I hope that is not the case. Their squeaky noses, seltzer bottles and over-sized shoes are a barrel o’ monkeys until they pull out their razors…

As for the Joker, Harley Quinn and Pennywise…well, I love them, they hold no pretenses and present to the world the full truth about clowns.

6 – Token Heteros

Heh…I find myself on the opposite side of your coin. I have friends who would all purport to be the token hetero. However, the males tend to listen to musicals and know the difference between fuschia and cerise; the females can hear your car engine rattle from a mile away and tell you what you need repaired, or can readily lift two hundred pounds from a dead lift and beat the shit out of most body-builders. Token heteros? Naaaa! “Everybody Gay!!!”….

7 – Can You Squeeze a Bowling Ball from a White Rabbit with Sharp Pointed Teeth?

That is a good and very important question; one that deserves volumes dedicated to its philosophical consideration. Were Orpheus afoot he would surely compose a tremendous melody in honor of whomever could reach the truth on such an issue. Yes, it is more important than Camus’ discourse on suicide, euthanasia, and Martha Stewart. However, it is not one that I have ever pondered. Being a person who owns a bunch of snakes, I tend to view rabbits as potential food items for Na’as, the Burmese Python. Rabbits, have very strong back legs; coupled with their Sharp-pointed teeth, they pose a potential danger for a snake during live feeding. To wit, my principle question regarding said White Rabbit, and said Sharp, Pointed Teeth is: exactly where does one find a rubber mallet big enough to knock the varmint loopy without having to deal with bunny brains strewn about the house?

8 – Will White Persian Cats Someday Rule the World?

1) Indeed, having elected a SpEd to run the United States for eight years following Slick Willie, anything is possible. However, remember that this dangerous SpEd, kept me wealthy during those eight years. Hooray for SpEdident Bush!

2) I hope not, as my snakes may be considered “enemy combatants” and ferreted off to wherever Barak is sending those guys after releasing them from Guantanamo Bay.

9 – Will Those Who Wear Flip Flops With Socks Trip Over Their Socks if Their Socks Lose Their Elasticity?

I really hope that they do trip over the socks. Then it will be easier for me to shoot them in the ass with my Derringer for committing such a horrid fashion faux-pas of flip-flops, and then compounding the problem by adding socks. Yes, get something to treat the onion looking and smelling toenails, and leave the flip-flops.

10 – The Idea of Valium and Red Bull….nuff sed

Valium and Red Bull? I really do not know. For one, I do enjoy my Valium (believe it or not, I can be a bit anxious at times). As for Red Bull, I really do not understand it. Maybe my ADD has prevented me from seeing the effect of the beverage on my system. Maybe my OCD forces me to buy Mt. Dew at the 7-11. Who knows? I sure as fuck do not. On the Alandia website, I came across a recipe for a drink mixing absinthe and Red Bull. Hmmm….that seems like a bad idea; the Green Faery already has wings, do we really need to hype her up as well?.

And that dear folks would be my response to GKhaos. As this is the second time I had to write the damn thing, I apologize for taking so long to post it. Blame MySpace Tom, he is out to get me.

1/2/2010 reprint from MySpace

Good Evening! I am pleased. Very pleased. After sending a picture of myself to MySpace and a new email address, I was able to access my old blog entries from that site and can begin the lengthy process of moving posts from there to this blog. I have no idea why I chose to start with this particular entry. Maybe it was because the material manages to give those unfamiliar with my tales a glimpse into my life, my friends, and those who make regular appearances in my blogs and The Rothechilde Foundation. Maybe it was because it was one of the first entries that I came across and I am feeling lazy and hungry and needing to eat the delicious, eggplant Parmesan that was just brought to my desk for me to ingest instead of toiling away in front of the computer. Who knows? And without further ado:

Too Long, Not Too Late

Writing, a process that is almost foreign to me at this point in my mundane, linear existence. However, what better day to start putting words to screen than the day we give thanks for being able to take over a nation, subject it to a “better” Western philosophy through smallpox blankets, turkey and the Prius.

So, much has happened since we last fucked on this blog. I have taken to attending our Foundation Board meetings via webcam in my pajamas from my bedroom. The orchard harvest was not as grand as it should have been this year. Face it, nature sucked, but the failing economy only is hurting the middle class and the poor. As for myself, the Trust is secure and I still made more than enough in orchard profits to say that the economic earning year was not shot.

Me: So, I have decided to discontinue my treatment sessions with you. Nothing personal of course, but I disagree with your bi-polar diagnosis and your attempts to force those zombifying narcotics on me. I seem to be doing just fine on a steady regimen of porn, Valium and Absinthe. Oh, and the occasional motivational speech and boob picture request denial from Sister Constance.

Shrinky-Dink: So, you are implying that you know more about mental health than I, a graduate from medical school with a specialty in psychiatry, know about mental health. To add, you believe that your sexual harassment of your sister is acceptable behavior to compensate for any issues you may be having?

Me: Well, that was unnecessarily smug, smarmy and generally uncalled for. Not to mention, that statement is logically inconsistent. I implied nothing; you made an inference there, dear Docky Wocky. Did you neglect your studies in logic during your college years? Further, Sister Constance is The Foundation’s former koala wrangler and current Communications Director or something like that (I have neglected my duties for so long that I could not tell you whom does what really anymore). Still further, she is not my sister, she is a nun and there is nothing wrong with looking at nun tit…or asking for nude pictures of said nun tits. It is like a test of faith.

Besides, everytime I come to visit, you give me another series of letters to add to my name or some title. You know like bi-polar, ADD, ADHD, OCD, EPMD (for those of you too young, or non-informed on old school rap, EPMD was a rap group), so in my opinion, I am gaining experience and valuable prefixes and suffixes.

Shrinky-Dink: Xavier, it is time that you took your best interests to heart and seriously consider that you are in need of the medications that I am recommending.

Me: No, it is time for me to use the money that I would be spending on pimping out my new fleet of hearses rather than paying you for this senseless psychobabble. Goddess! For what I pay you, you would think that I would not have to fight you so for Valium or sedatives; I can get better stuff cheaper from anyone of the families that my Foundation serves. AND many of them are much better lays than you are.

Shrinky-Dink: You are clearly delusional! We have never had sexual relations of any sort!

Me: I never said that. I can tell that you are a horrible lay and the image of your naked form in my brain is giving me an anxiety attack. The overwhelming fear of you forcing some sort of anti-psychotic across the table causing me to shoot you is enough to prevent my having any serious delusions.

Enough of this yabble! I have finally decided to return to meeting with The Foundation Board at the actual Thunderdome. It seems that in my absence, the Ve-ep has taken to attempting to mock my handlings of our proceedings and doings. Would you believe that he suggested that I would advocate feeding the homeless to the poor to alleviate hunger? I must confess that the idea does have some merits…

Shrinky-Dink: That would be cannibalism…

Me: What does pot have to do with any of this? Besides the idea is also a tad on the side of Social Darwinism and deliciously eugenic in an off sort of way. Regardless, I would never advocate such a thing, particularly given that there are some from my income bracket that are finding themselves poor as broke-dick dogs.

Shrinky-Dink: Well, that was inversely altruistic of you. Have you ever stopped to consider why a misanthrope such as yourself carries on such activities as having a charitable foundation?

Me: It did not sound to me as if your use of Foundation was capitalized, that is hurtful and a bit supercilious of you. Kudos! You seem to be making progress in our sessions. We shall have you cured in no time!

Shrinky-Dink: For starters, I am not the one in treatment…

Me: Whatever you say.

Shrinky-Dink: Secondly, you avoided the question.

Me: We have done this dance before, dear doctor, and I am afraid we have worn a hole in the bottom of my shoes from it. Ha! Yet, since you seem to be slow to learn simple concepts, I shall reiterate. The Foundation enables me to safely maintain my Trust through charitable donations and strategic investment in technology. True, I do manage to do well with the Orchards, but I wish to pay as little in taxes as possible. Taxes are for the middle class, sir! The Foundation enables my associates and myself to purchase property, avoid taxes and find ways to subjugate a population through acts of kindness.

Shrinky-Dink: And we return to the delusions. This one of grandeur; you believe that your foundation subjugates a population? That seems, to use your words, a bit supercilious.

Me: Your speech leads me to infer that psychiatrists are not required to take any grammar courses whilst attending college: the capital “F” seems to be missing again (really, I am not hearing it come from you, dude) and you started your sentence with “and”. Would you like to use the “Elements of Style” app on my iPhone to brush up a bit before speaking? Another thing, supercilious is only one word and it does not belong exclusively to me: I believe some guy in Muskegon owns it.

Well, dear friends. I have enjoyed my writing experiencxe…and there is more to this story. However, I am due to be on air soon and must be off to please my fans. TTFN!

Tonight On The Rothechilde Experiment


Tonight’s Featured Artists:

Switchblade Symphony
Joy Division
Leonard Cohen
New Order
The Smiths
Big Pig
Siouxsie and the Banshees
Public Image Ltd.
The Smithereens
Snake River Conspiracy
Mindless Self Indulgence
Bad Brains
That Handsome Devil
Lacuna Coil
Depeche Mode
Wednesday 13
The Koffin Kats
Rob Zombie
The Cure
The Gothacoustic Ensemble
Tre Lux
Dead Can Dance (dedicated to The Gothic Barbie: DJ Mirage).

The First Post

This is always the most difficult thing for me to write: the first of anything. In the past, if I found myself having a similar stumbling block, I would resort to leaving some post containing random videos, or numerous photos with obnoxious comments. However, today, this post…there seems to be something else that is called for.

For those of you who do not know me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Xavier S. Rothechilde. The “S” stands for whatever I choose to have it stand for at any particular time. I am the esteemed owner of Rothechilde Orchards, a business I inherited from my parents. The orchard is very large and contains the most delicious varieties of apples and cherries that a person could ever taste. This year is a momentous year for the orchards; a vineyard is being planted so that the world can taste the wonders produced from the soil about Rothechilde Estates in a miraculously intoxicating, liquid brew.

When not enjoying my time about the Estates, I can typically be found roaming the Samurai City, home of The Rothechilde Foundation. The Foundation is a charitable organization with the mission of promoting economic development and promoting community building. A champion of the underprivileged,  The Rothechilde Foundation has been a guiding beacon to the citizenry of Samurai City through technological innovation, providing sources of income, defending the privilege of the privileged, and assisting the scientific community through various means of research and development. While it has been said that The Foundation is a merely a front to shelter the Rothechilde fortune from taxation from an unscrupulous government that seeks to rob the Rothechilde family blind, this is most certainly not the case. A team of legal experts have successfully proven so and will present relevant documentation upon subpoena.

While we are on the subject of clearing myths, it should also be mentioned that while I, your dear Xavier, have been known to enjoy a taste of absinthe from time to time, as well as the occasional sexual dalliance, I AM NOT A DEVIANT! At least not in the traditional sense. You see, deviance is in the eye of the deviated… Besides, why else would someone create a smartphone capable of storing tons of porn on it unless you were meant to view it during boring board meetings our inane bar conversations.

I do have a taste for firearms and martial arts.

When not seen driving one of the fleet of Foundation Hummers, I love to tool about in my Alfa Romeo that I paid a great deal to have tricked out to look like a hearse. But that reminds me, the Hummers (not the blow jobs, although if you are offering…). Many have criticized The Foundation’s use of what seems to be gas guzzling destroyers of the environment as counterproductive to our mission of clean cities and community building. However, this could not be further from the truth. In actuality, when we fill the massive tanks of our military mock-ups, we save trips to the gas station, hence saving gas. Additionally, more of our Hummers on the streets means fewer of the typical hoopties that you may see around…which is pleasing aesthetically.

In the next few days, this blog will have updates and additions that will make you more familiar with the Foundation. In fact, a whole page is dedicated to the esteemed people who make The Rothechilde Foundation such a valuable community asset.

In addition to my life as a gad-a-bout, Orchard owner, and charity guru, I can be heard playing classic goth tunes on Darkside Radio. You can read more about us on yet another page, soon to come. And with that, dear reader, this experiment as a first true blog entry has come to an end. Hopefully, I have made you a little curious; curious enough to stick around to read when things get truly interesting around here.