So-So New Look, Shabby (Even for a Hack) Title.

I have been making changes. Many changes. In fact, I had gotten so caught up in changes, that I had completely forgotten that I had this blog. Actually, that is a complete and total falsehood. I was fully aware that I still had this blog. It clung to the back of my brain like a cybertext yarmulke. However, it was causing me a large degree of anxiety. A tremendously large amount.

To begin, I hated the way the damn thing looked. Being unfamiliar with how the formatting thing-a-ma-stuff works here, I am unable to manipulate the design as I was able to back on MySpace. On MySpace, I was a God! I could format the blog’s appearance, and add pictures, and adjust the layout of each blog entry so I could dazzle and amaze! Then MySpace became terrible, and Facebook seems to have something against blogging, so I came to WordPress. I came to WordPress where I saw things like CSS and strange empty windows that would allow me to somehow type something in them in order to create a spectacular looking blog. I searched for templates on the web. I did not have the patience to try and figure out anything I found. Sure, there may be an easy way to go about doing things to give me the blog of my creative dreams, but I just do not have the patience to sit and figure all of the subtle cyber-nuances that would help me create the design of my twisted dreams. C’est la vie.

I know I am being harsh, but I already agreed the old design sucked more!

OCD is a terrible creature. It makes life difficult in the most innocuous, but crippling ways. For me, the anxiety of having a blog with dysfunctional pages was making me nauseous; just thinking about the idea of of WordPress was giving me cold sweats at times. This may sound weird. But it was not WordPress, per se, it was the pages that were a part of my blog that had no data and were just sitting there like failed cyber trash or those blank pages that you can never get rid of in a Microsoft Word document unless you get certified in its use at one of those seminars taught by some IT geek from the regional office of your corporation. Certification that is going to be invalid after the latest update comes out a week later.

To avoid the anxiety, I ignored the blog, occasionally suffering guilt from not writing, and more from disconnecting from the words of friends and colleagues that I share this bloggy part of the net with. I managed to log in periodically and keep up with the blog of a Mr. D. A. Adams. He tends to write daily, and I did keep up with most of what he had going on, but I refrained from commenting on things as I have been feeling significantly less that witty, or able-to-say-something-meaningful-y.

I did try to write a few times during this dark period of apathetic writer’s blockage. I have about four lengthy drafts stored up, waiting for some sort of finish that more than likely will never come; I have grown to hate those drafts. While they started out as interesting tales, they now only seem as relics, fossils, of a lost time period that started with a catch line that was the greatest thing since “Once upon a time,” and eventually came to that senseless drivel that you can read in the fifteen or less line at the local Piggly Wiggly or Kroger or where ever you get your groceries.

And then Arabella posted a blog, And another. Two from her that quick was a bit of a shock to my system. And then Apple sent me an update for my WordPress app on my iPhone. The technology that I had been using on a daily basis was starting to remind me about WordPress. That was odd, but a little motivating.

And so here I am today. I decided to figure out how to remove the offending pages (which I did), find a new design (I stuck with a non-custom design, I hate the fucking orange highlights), and that is where I am at the moment: a new look and a shabby title, and hideous, orange, fucking highlights. Shabby title for now. I have decided that it would be a good idea for me to take small steps. And this is the smallest step that I could imagine taking. For the time being. Yet, in that small step, I also took a spectacularly large lunar leap for Xavier-kind; those that know me well, would have seen that right away. What is this thing? It is the picture of myself that I have added to my blog. There, on the sidebar, a picture of me in full color, non-oldtimey or black and white. A picture that further defies convention and shows me wearing a blue, three-piece suit, rather than my standard black, two-piece with black tie. I am not sure how I feel about that one for the time being, I may remove it once I come up with a better title for my blog.

However, my anxiety and apathy does not begin and end with this blog. I stopped training. All aspects of training, I simple ceased. It was easy to stop running because I hate running and can do without that means of cardiovascular exercise. But I stopped lifting, and calisthenics, and stretching, and most significantly – jujitsu. I stopped going to the dojo. I even stopped thinking about technique. The idea of doing anything just crept from my mind and body. It was if my brain decided to go on strike, and my body joined in a sympathetic shut down of operations in solidarity. Next my desire for inane fun left; the Playstation 3 sits there getting dust, the newly discovered verb, “Batmanning,” slowly creeping from my vocabulary along with the Third Street Saints and Ezio Auditore.

“Bonnie Parker”

What I have been doing, is riding my newly acquired motorcycle. Ever since the last one was crushed by that imbecile, I had been displeased with riding. Sure, I was able to replace the mirrors and turn signals, but I felt like I was riding a victim. It felt as if taking her out was a further violation. And then, the gear shift broke. So, I was no longer faced with the guilty sensation of pushing my poor, injured, bikey to her limits unnecessarily.

Fortune smiled upon me and I was able to acquire another vintage beauty. A nineteen eighty-one Honda Silverwing. I named her “Bonnie Parker” after Clyde Barrow’s infamous, but compelling partner in crime. Since I got her, I have added a windshield (which was graciously given to me from a fellow rider, more on that later), and even gotten some luggage for the back so I can carry things, like tools, Monster drinks, and spare ammunition and tazer cartridges. Oddly, one of the things that pleases me the most about Bonnie is the convenient helmet holders on her sides. Once I figured out how they worked (Thank you, Manthony), I was fascinated with them. I have no idea why. It just is what it is… And yes, although the great State of Michigan has repealed the mandatory helmet law, I still wear my helmet when I ride.

I also joined a motorcycle riding club. From what I understand, there is a definite and distinct difference between a motorcycle club and a riding club, I am a member of a club of the riding variety. While I may offend few by saying this, I wish to be completely honest and say that all that matters is that I have a few cool cats to ride around with and learn how to become a more skilled rider. Sadly, I have not gotten to ride with my new pardners, my schedule is being a total bitch. Happily, my schedule has not prevented me from riding Bonnie. In fact, my schedule has become one that ensures that I have to go places, and the recent spate of decent weather has further ensured that I have had the opportunity to ride to those places.

So, I guess this is where I am. I hope that I have finally gotten through those doldrums that I have kept me in a see of apathy, non-motivation, and generally ho-hummity.


Leap Year Address, Two Thousand and Twelve

Greetings and Salutations!

Foundation stakeholders, Board members and Citizens of Samurai City, while I am simply elated to be here with you to celebrate the addition of the extra fourth of a day each year that we ignore save for every fourth year, I am saddened to begin this evening by asking that we all take a moment to remember Davy Jones. Mr. Jones was a good man, a funny man, a man who shared his name with the burial ground of sailors and pirates. He will be surely missed.

With that said, I now present the good news. As it is a Leap Year, it is important that we remember the fact that we are also being lazy; lazy on a scope that has encompassed all of humanity. Why lazy? The answer to that is simple: instead of adding another day to February on a permanent basis, a day that would last about six hours, we have opted to save those hours and bank them into one day extra every four years. In doing so, we have cheated ourselves, and our species.

True, true…that extra day in February would be a short one. More than likely, we would get very little accomplished as a whole. Which is why I would propose that the extra day be a six-hour holiday. Six full hours to do exactly nothing. Nothing! A person could sleep, fly kites, go on a drug/sex/booze bender. What the world needs exactly that: a day that is a holiday with no cultural purpose other than to slack off and not worry about a motherfucking thing.

Now, I realize that some people would want to work, and that some services cannot be avoided. To solve this: triple time. Maybe quadruple time. Yes! For six hours the people that HAVE to be on duty, would get an assload of cash to work on said day. You do not like the idea of cops rolling around in a Benz in their free time while you gad-about in your hooptie? Then behave on the extra day and we will not need the 5-0 up in our grilles for six hours. Besides, if you are somewhere being a complete lazy ass, you should not be getting into any mischief anyway.

So, dear people, as you go about your every fourth year shenanigans and celebrations, think about the benefit and joy that a six-hour jerk off could bring to you and humankind as a whole. Embrace the six hour additional day to February. Strike a blow for relaxation and against greedy day stealing Augustus.

Thank you, and Good Night!

Happy Leap Year!

Coyotes Attack Chino: A Recreation

A few years ago, I read a story on the Internet about children in Chino Hills, Ca getting attacked by coyotes in these suburban settings. Apparently, the coyotes come down from the hills, out of the woods, motor from Macy’s, etc, and proceed onto playgrounds and bite small kids. After stifling a chuckle about the situation, I appreciated that the issue was indeed serious. I mean, while the whole story has a sort of Warner Bros. flavor to it, it is distressing in that the coyotes were attacking small people. And I decided that I wanted to repost that blog. In case you had not heard about these attacks, here is some background from the Los Angeles Times.

Apparently, the sprawl of Urbanity has led the coyote to roam about the suburban landscape looking for tasty morsels of kiddie flesh. In fact, the Chino Hills website even has a question regarding the relative usual or unusual-ness of coyotes being spotted in the area:

 4.Is it unusual to see a coyote roaming around the neighborhood?

NO, it is not. Drought conditions in Chino Hills have resulted in an increase in the number of wildlife sightings and incidents in residential neighborhoods and parks. Coyotes are being seen in neighborhoods and parks as they seek food and water in the lush landscaping found in parks and residential neighborhoods.

What prompted me to return to this issue was a discussion I had with a pit bull owner yesterday. Apparently, the state of Michigan is discussing the issue of banning pit bulls from ownership. She was distressed and she went on to state that the problem with vicious pit bulls is poor ownership. I agreed with her and added that that was only a part of the problem. The other part is that a pit bull is an animal and will do what it instinctively needs/wants to do when it comes down to it. People need to respect critters for what they are. For example, I share my habitat with a Burmese Python. One day, he will be huge. I know that I need to respect that he will be a huge snake with sharp teeth and keep him fed and happy, lest he react like a snake is going to react. A pit bull is a big, inherently aggressive dog. It has to be. It was bred to deal with wrangling bulls. However, they can be wonderful if raised, reared, and properly kept.

However, she was not hearing that noise. She believed that no matter what, proper raising will subvert any instinct the dog may possess. I politely restated my position and began to think about the coyote and decided that instead of discussing the issue of pit bulls, I would repost my coyote blog as a commentary of the human encroachment into more space, leaving less space for the wild; the conflicts between the two escalating as our worlds come closer and closer and closer…

I searched for the blog I wrote on the subject and could not find it anywhere. I was particularly disappointed because in addition to a social commentary on the subject of rapid human sprawl, I wrote what I believed to be a clever song (to the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues”) from the coyotes perspective. But why hear from the vicious, toddler-chomping coyote? He ran out and bit a poor, unsuspecting little one on the ass and ran off after having a taste of what kids were all about: cookies, dirt, and nose-pickings. While unappealing to some, apparently the coyote shared the experience with his friends and more coyotes began to come out for nibbles on kids. Now, the kids were not getting eaten, just a little nip, and then coyote would flee. Maybe, they were not attacks to eat the children, but were part of some hazing rite for entry into some coyote fraternity, gang, or the Coyote Liberation Front. No matter the case, can we really blame the coyote?

What do we expect? We move our asses into their environment and restrict their space so that they have to return the encroachment by learning to survive with us. Unfortunately, that means that small folk may start to look a bit like children McNuggets. To top it off, we stuff the little people with savory, fattening fast foods and sit them inside in front of gaming systems all day; the kids get all chubby and tender from the underuse of their little muscles. We are turning children in the United States into a type of free-range human veal, who can blame the coyote for wanting a little bite?

So, that was the gist of the blog. I even found an article on the subject and was able to include a link for your perusal. However, I lost my original song re-write and so, I attempted to re-write it from memory. I think I did a decent job with the attempt:

San Bernadino Animal Control Shelter Blues (Sung ala “Folsom Prison Blues”)

I heard them voices making,
Noises over that thar hill;
They didn’t sound like normal
Food-type Critters I would kill.
Now, I’m stuck in San Bernadino,
And time keeps draggin’ on,
I was trapped by a dog catcher,
He lured me with fake bones.

When I was just a puppy,
My Mama told me, “Son,
Always be a good whelp,
Don’t ever bite kids’ buns,”
But I bit a child in Chino,
Just to watch him cry,
Since he was so damn yummy,
I had to bite his thigh.

I know there’s pit bulls eatin’,
In them fancy urban scenes,
They’re probably chewin’ children,
From the ass right to the knee,
But I know I had it comin’,
I know I can’t be free,
But dem toddlers look delicious,
And that’s what tortures me.

I wish they’d let me move to Michigan,
Where kids get bitten all the time,
I swear I’ve learned my lesson,
I’ll chew other kids’ behinds,
Far away from Chino,
That’s where I want to stay,
I’d move out East to Detroit,
And bite my blues away.

Things That I Need to Pay Closer Attention To: Part XXX

While reading blogs of interest, I noticed that one of the blogs that I subscribe to, and even provide a link to on my page, may not be something that is really worth a “READ THIS” endorsement. Please, do not get me wrong, the “owner” of the site is a great person and I enjoy the random conversation fragments that I have had with her in the past couple of weeks. Yet, the truth must be told: I am nearly certain that the site in question is not one for “literary” entertainment. If you are curious to know what link that is, you can easily discover which one on your own, for I shall not out the person of which I write.

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.

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!

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.

Frustrations abated…well, not really.

Greetings and Salutations! This may well be my inaugural entry on this here new blog. So far, I do not mind what I have going on here. However I am incredibly displeased with the text and page options. I guess I have to wonder exactly what it is that I expect from this particular venture.

Well, that is enough for now. Perhaps I will do a proper introduction after I have slept on this for a bit. Besides, I am missing an awesome history program on sexual behavior through the ages.


…for now. My posts are showing up online as posts and not drafts. I am still unaware what is going on between this account and Twitter, but I am not too concerned with that yet.

While I hate that content warning at the that pops up when I go to see my blog, I so believe that the warning is more than necessary. I do have a romantic attachment to profanity at times.

I have decided that I am beginning to enjoy writing once again. Maybe the Muse had returned…

An upgrade of my blogging format is definitely needed. I think I may try WordPress and another Webhost (is that one or two words? I do not believe that I care enough to check that right now).

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Yet Another Test

And here is yet another test of the iPhone-as-a-blog tool.

Up until five minutes ago, I could only save drafts from this accursed iPhone app; the software kept attempting to post to Facebook and/or save each post as a draft. Changing the settings to de-activate FB seems to have worked.

Now, I have turned on Twitter; I am curious to see what happens now…

I apologize to any who may have come across these ramblings. I do have more interesting things o come. However, my OCD demands that I “make my bed” before I write in it.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:The Foundation (North)