Month: September 2011

Missouri Loves Company

This post has nothing to do with the state of Missouri. At least I am not planning for it to have anything to do with the state of Missouri. To be completely honest, I have no idea where this blog entry is going, what the intent of this entry may be, why I decided to write this item, nor whether I will publish this article or not.

Before I go any further I have a question for any professional bloggers, internet geeks, and/or language freaks. I know that this whole deal that I am writing here on WordPress is a blog, but what do I call each blog entry? I mean, I switched between “entry” and “blog entry” above to see which one felt better. One seemed a bit long and dorky, the other seemed a bit clerical. Either way, the whole pseudo-alliterative, redundancy of that started to really annoy me. So, I switched to item, which seemed too short. Then I tried article, which, for reasons that elude me, does not seem to apply.

Earlier today, I was on my way to a local college where I am taking a nutrition class. With the mild temperature, sun and cloudless sky, it was shaping to be a pleasurable motorcycling experience. I would call it fahrvergnügen, only my motorcycle is Japanese…and not a car (however, there is an ironic “Axis” relationship here…). Anyway, I came to this intersection which is a four-way stop. As I began to cross the intersection, the horrible excuse for a bitch just turned out in front of me. She was just chatting away on her cell phone, not paying any attention to anything around her. Maybe it is the low profile of the motorcycle. Maybe she was just too concerned with her phone and where she had to go to think that she could have killed a person who was not paying attention. Whatever the case, I have learned to be even more attentive when out riding. It is a strange thing, it is: what you gain in freedom while riding in the open air, you almost have to surrender to paranoia regarding the big things in that open air being driven by people not in the same air.

The Republican party is complaining again. They are saying that this new proposal from President Obama is class warfare on the rich. Now, it is this sort of lunacy that drove me from my gun-toting, wealthy brethren long ago in favor of using my own clout to affect the local politics in my area to suit the Foundation’s and the Rothechilde Estate and Orchards benefit. I grew tired of the hypocrisy that they are spewing on near elephant projectile vomit proportions! They are crying class warfare because they are being asked to pay a little bit more in taxes. But, cutting social programs that benefit the poor is not? And, cutting funding for the public schools (which is where the poor tend to go to school if they want an education) is not? Smashing the unions, sending the “unfortunate sons” to war in foreign lands is not? Wow. I guess I understand. When it involves asking the rich for more, then it is class warfare. When it involves asking the poor and middle class to pay all, then it is sound economic policy. Jeez. That poor little picked on one percent of the population who has all of the cash better hope that the poor do not start listening to what dear old Jim Morrison said: “…they got the guns, but we got the numbers…”

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Just Because I Am Wearing Leather, Does Not Mean I Am a “Leatherman”

It has been far too long since I have taken time to write something. Anything. It is not because I had did not have anything to write about. With the new economic policies proposed, the GOP all over the place, the start of the operating year of the Foundation, etc. I just have not found the urge to sit and put anything out. Would that be a writer’s block? I doubt it. I suffered one of those just in time to flee the sinking MySpace ship. This was a different type of thing. An odd sort of thing. It was a combination of apathy and disinterest.

This disinterest seems to be a still running thing for me as I am paying more attention to this rerun of “Family Guy” on [adult swim]. See how nice I am? I left links for you in case you wanted to wander off and wander back as you read like I was doing when I wrote this. You can share my apathy and disinterest. If you do so, the joke is actually on you as you could be getting sucked into my ADD addled brain and not truly being apathetic and disinterested. Next thing you know, I will have you running around the dining room table between forkfuls of food as your mommie tells you to sit the fuck down because you are embarrassing her in front of the guests.

I do not understand "Squidbillies."

A while back, I went to visit my dawg Manthony at one of his clubs. The club that caters to a “mixed” crowd. At first, I was excited about the prospect of this club, I thought it would be a grand affair like the old Mulatto Balls back in Louisiana. I could roam about in my finest of southern gentlemanly attire, admiring the debutantes and chasing their well-bosomed mothers while sipping mint juleps. A grand time indeed, I must declare! However, this was not to pass. This bar is a club that caters to people of various sexual preferences. I would like to say a gay and hetero bar, but that would exclude people and apparently, you have to add all of the types of orientations when speaking of the group that was once known as “queer.”

I went to the club to visit Manthony and was dressed as I am in the picture here. Let me digress a bit and say that I took a few pictures of me on my motorcycle with an attempt to look cool, or like a badass. Personally, I look like someone that I would not want to mess with, but then again, I know how long I have been studying martial arts, who taught me, and how many weapons I may be concealing at the point, so I am biased. But I took the picture and decided to put it in here anyway. Tough looking or no, Apparently no, as you will soon see.

I almost did not add these pictures to this writing. For one, I am not wearing my trade mark black…in its entirety. Instead, there I am in jeans. Jeans that completely remove my ass from existence. I have on a leather coat, but the shirt is some sort of muscle shirt thing, and there is no tie. Instead of looking like a suave, seductive funeral director, I look like Jamaican greaser. Or apparently, something else. As you will soon see.

Personally, I thought I was going more for that Eighties look. It is hard to tell what I mean from that photograph. You can only see me from mid-shin and up. However, I am wearing black shoes and my pants are cuffed (which is usually the case given that I have short legs and a small waist, shorter-legged pants are made for chubbier stock is what the tailor tells me. Whether that is true or not, I do no care. I like to cuff my pants. To be honest, I felt that having the pants French-cuffed would have made the Eighties look more evident. However, that horrid secretary of mine said that if she ever saw me in pants that were French-cuffed that she would steal all of them, have the permanently altered, and have all of my finances put in her name so that I could never purchase clothes again. So, instead of the Eighties, I have a type of rockabilly thing going. Or apparently, something else. As I will get back to now.

Fonzi? (Note the cuffed pants.)

When I finally arrived at Manthony’s club, I parked my motorcycle and was greeted by a group of dudes who apparently were into motorcycles. And classic television. This was the first time I was told what it was that I may have looked like: Fonzi. Some guy walked up, said he like my bike and my outfit. He said that I looked like Fonzi. Really? Fonzi? I guess I should not bitch too much. He could have been some nerd and called me “Dally” or “Ponyboy.” He could have said Black Fonzi, that would have been pretty bad, as well. So, in all things, I discovered that it was not rockabilly, or Eighties that I was in style of, it was Fonzi. So, I had the greaser part down without having the white tee shirt. Not too shabby for a guy whose wardrobe consists of several black suits, white shirts and neckties, a couple of hoodies, and a few gis.

However, the dudes outside were wrong. I did not look like Fonzi. I was not of the Fonz Club for Men. Rather, upon entering the bar, it was discovered that more of the men inside of the club thought that I may be a “Leatherman.” The musclebound man who does what he calls dancing on the stage in his whitey tighties took a close gander at me. A few other guys took a look as well. Maybe the were looking for some sign that would tell them whether they should don a gimp mask or attempt to make me their bitch. Ha! I found the whole thing amusing. For one, I have been know to have my, er, fascinations with things of the leather, chains and whips variety. Yet, I do have to admit that I have never donned a gimp suit, mask, or wanted to be a member of The Village People. Seriously people, just because a guy wears a leather coat one should not think that he wants to lash you to a huge wooden X and barrage you with the sting of the cat o’ nine’ before anally sodomizing you with a giant dildo while using your mouth for a rectum.

Okay, that was a bit graphic and extreme. But that is what you all have come to expect and love from me. There was one other picture that was to accompany this blog. It has been let on the editing room floor as a friendly gesture to you, dear readers, and mostly as a sacrifice to the gods of my vanity.

Tonight on Darkside Radio – 20 August 2011

Greetings and Salutations! After the Labor Day break, it is time to return to the mechanics of everyday life. Summer vacation is over, the kiddies are all back in school, and I am returning to the airwaves to terrorize and entertain. Tonight’s show marks a semi-return to my longer format. However, I have to admit that I will not be entertaining you for the full four hours, rather tonight’s show is closer to three. Since I have done this, you all should be listening…

Image created by Oliver Twist'd

While I admit, that I have been neglecting my blog duties this last week, I assure you that I shall be returning to entertain, shock, and horrify, you all with tales from my beloved Rothechilde Foundation. Summer is always a slow time for our work as we must attend to important matters like vacation, sleeping in, eating, and lounging. Yet, another summer has indeed come and died and it is now time to continue the cycle of…whatever it is that we tend to put in some sort of cycle. However, tonight is not a night to go on about the opening week of Foundation business; it is not a night to discuss the development and implementation of the War Elephant Protocols. Tonight is a night for fun, music, and dancing.

Darkside Radio with DJ Xavier

Darkside Radio with DJ Xavier

This is a night for listening to me on Darkside Radio and dancing in your living room, at your party, or in your computer seat as you type with one hand and gleefully masturbate to pictures of porn stars that you will never get to touch or even stand one hundred feet near.

Tonight’s show marks a return of a few old favorites from shows past. Tonight’s show will bring you a version of and old favorite of mine (and yours), “The Fuck Block.” Unfortunately, it is not a true block of your fucking F-Bomb favorites, but two of the songs that defined that wonderful block of tunes have returned to the playlist. What are they? I guess you will have to tune in and have a listen. Also, Tonight the Rothechilde Experience extends the psychobilly and horrorbilly segment to more songs for you to grab your broad and swing to…

To listen click here or copy and paste the address below in your browser. You will need to follow the buttons at the top of the page to open your relevant music player.

To make a request, comment or just be a smartass or whatever, follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/xrothechilde

Darkside Radio – http://darksideradio.com

Tonight’s Featured Artists

Bauhaus
They Might Be Giants
Peter Murphy
Joy Division
The Smiths
Specimen
The Cure
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
New Order
Dead Kennedys
The Damned
Portishead
Depeche Mode
Siouxsie and the Banshees
Reverend Horton Heat
Guana Bats
Mad Marge and the Stonecutters
HorrorPops
The Koffin Kats
That Handsome Devil (for my ‘beth)
Tool
Lacuna Coil
Evanescence
Rob Zombie
Frankenstein Drag Queens from Planet 13
Mindless Self Indulgence
Kidneythieves
Combichrist
A Perfect Circle
Ministry & Co-Conspirators (for Kelly)
Nine Inch Nails
KMFDM
Electric Six
Modulate
My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult
The Gothacoustic Ensemble
Type O Negative (to Amy W. B.)
Puscifer
Switchblade Symphony
The Smithereens
The Cult
Tre Lux (to DJ Mirage)

(Commercials played on The Rothechilde Experiment are from Rockstar Games’ “Grand Theft Auto” Series. Bumps and promos created and produced by: DJ Mirage, DJ Parallax, and Ethermagus. Blank MP3s created and produced by Oliver Twist’d)

Sword-weilding man “Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs” (via Striking Thoughts)

I love that hair!

Sword-weilding man “Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs” This just in from the crime blotter: In an unusual arrest, Indiana State Police say they picked up a shirtless man marching along the highway with a samurai sword. In a statement, police say Womack was marching like a “drum major,” moving the sword up and down in rhythm with his marching cadence. When a trooper approached, Womack reportedly swung the sword, then dropped it. He reportedly told police he was, “Cuckoo for Cocoa Puf … Read More

via Striking Thoughts

Finally! The Motorcycle Saga Comes to A Pleasant Point

Yesterday, was a milestone in my struggle with my new motorcycle. I actually took a few spins up and down the drive of the Rothechilde Estates. It was a fun and exhilarating experience, even though I only traveled a few yards.

Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself. Where I should be going is that the leak that was plaguing me and preventing my fun with the new bike was finally fixed, the bike was registered, and it was ready for a ride. I went out and bought a new helmet. The helmet search was difficult. The volume of my dreads demands a larger helmet. The idea that standing at five foot six inches and needing a double-extra large helmet to accomodate my hair was a bit…displeasing. However, I was able to allleviate myself from the worry of looking like a lollipop of deranged Power Ranger bobble-head by getting a “brain bucket” with a drop down visor that stops at the bridge of my nose. That is a good thing as my vanity and fashion sense were not the only considerations for the helmet: my claustrophobic tendencies make the use of a full head covering not only impossible for me, but cause considerable anxiety.

So, new helmet in hand, I went for a ride yesterday (well, now it would be the day before). I had gone on one a week before using a borrowed helmet and almost crashed into a neighbor’s house (I managed to stay in control and not crash and burn myself or my neighbor’s dwelling). The second ride went much better…until the clutch went stupid. It got stuck in gear on me and I managed to finagle it back into first so I could make it back to the Estate, and then in neutral when arriving back at my residence. Murphy, my chief mechanic took the bike for a shakedown and declared that the clutch mechanism was acting hooky. He removed the cover, cleaned the mechanism, oiled the beast, and reassembled. It worked! With the clutch working, I took the bike on a longer ride. This time, I traveled close to one hundred yards. However, instead of hitting the streets, I took a ride along the dirt trails in the orchards and vineyards. I rode for about ten minutes, parked and took a break for the night.

Today (now yesterday, technically) I went for a longer ride. This time I had Murphy haul the bike to Samurai City and took a cruise around. This time, the ride was much better. Unlike my last couple of rides where I pretty much stayed in first gear, this time I tried shifting. While I am not sure that I got it right, I did manage to accelerate to forty miles per hour. Also, I took to the main roads and had a decent forty-five minute trip. I only stalled out three times, and managed to keep my head and handle it with minimal stress.

All-in-all, I would say that I am enjoying this experience a great deal, and cannot wait to figure out exactly what I am doing when I am supposed to be shifting. Perhaps, when I go out tomorrow, I can get that down a bit better. Hell, I may even have Murphy set some cones up for me to drive through…