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5:43 a.m. - 2003-11-24


You know who is really bugging me today?

Jermaine F'n Jackson.

He's crawled out from whatever rock he's been hiding under for the last ten years since Michael was last accused of playing "rubba rubba" with another little boy and is saying that Michael is NOT a pedophile and that he is NOT a child molester.

I'd like to share something with Jermaine called "a smidgen of reality".

Ready Jerry?

Here we go...

Most pedophiles and child molesters don't show up at the family reunion with a 12 year-old on their arm saying "See this kid? Banged the SHIT out of him last night! And it was good. Goooooooood, I'm telling you. Gonna bang his little brother tonight. Yep! Sure am! So ... how're your kids, Jermaine? Ready to send 'em to Uncle Michael so I can deflower them?"

Y'see Jermaine ... if Michael IS a pedophile, he's probably smart enough to keep that little secret about as mum as he possibly can.

Michael has probably told you repeatedly that he is NOT a pedophile and you believed him. He's probably even written it down on the back of some of those weekly checks that he provides you with that pay the payments on that wack 1994 Toyota Corrola of yours.

You're probably a bit confused because you can't believe that your brother puts his penis up little boys' asses when the only thing you've ever had up your ass is your own head.

The facts are this ... videotapes have been seized. And love letter to little boys have been seized. There's a 12 year-old cancer patient saying he was seized repeatedly in Michael's bed. His 12 year-old bunghole can back up the claim.

And this time, Michael doesn't have the money to settle out of court.

Hell ... the kid hasn't even asked for any money. This time it's the feds coming after him and not the gullible parents of some other kid who got delicate handjobs from the King of Pop.

So Jermaine?

Shut your mouth.

Your ass is showing.

Went up to Mattie Gee's house Saturday night to watch the football game between Auburn and Alabama which is the biggest party night of the year in this state.

And party we did.

While most of the evening is a blur for me, I do remember pissing in a house plant, holding down his pet cat Fluffy and trying to vomit on her to no avail, and doing the electric slide by myself with no musical accompaniment and no prior knowledge on how to do the electric slide for nearly 30 minutes in order to amuse the others at the party.

The only problem was that the majority of the other people at the party had never met me and weren't aware that this is how I like to party ... balls out.

So rather than cheering on the pissing in the house plant joke, they murmured things like "What an asshole!" and "Can we call the cops on him for something like that?"

I spent the second half of the game by myself in a corner, watching the game and being restrained by everyone's belts.


They seriously need to learn how to properly party.

Have I mentioned that you can buy Mattie Gee's new CD at their newly rehauled website?

$10 on Paypal. It's a bargain, kiddies. It's the only CD I've been listening to for the last month or so and it's damned good.

I was trying to talk Mattie Gee and lead guitarist Brian into broadcasting some of their shows over the Internet via Real Player for like $2 and becoming true innovators in the world of online concerts.

Naturally, I was doing this while humping a watermelon for laughs and I doubt they took me seriously.

But at the time it seemed like a good idea.

I'd gladly pay two bucks to watch the greatest party band in the world play live on the internet while I rhythmically humped a watermelon in the privacy of my own home.

Who wouldn't?

My wife was on a cleaning kick from hell this weekend.

Friday night she cleaned all the cupboards in the kitchen, removing a lot of stuff and boxing it up for yard sales.

Saturday she cleaned all around the house.

Sunday she cleaned out her closet which was a huge task in and of itself.

Last night, she was in the best mood I've seen her in for the last several weeks.

All because the house was clean and she had a big role in getting it that way.

You'd think that living with moi would be enough to keep her in joyful fits every hour of the day.


Cleaning, baby.

Cleaning the house makes her ecstatic.

I'm not complaining.

I'm just commenting.

My local "going out of business" DVD/music store is now entering its last week of operation.

I went by there yesterday and while it's been heavily picked over, there's still lots of stuff to be had.

I bought the first season of "The Larry Sanders Show" for $16...regularly $40.

Got the DVD of "My Bodyguard" which was a favorite movie of mine from the 80s. Matt Dillon is so dreamy...I mean...creepy in that film.

Bought Andrew a CD..."Free To Be You And Me". My sister had that on vinyl when we were kids and loved it.

And got myself a CD...The Rolling Stones' "Metamorphosis". I've been looking for that thing since I was a kid. I owned it when I was 12, it was the first Stones album I ever owned and it used to drive my sisters crazy when I played it because the song I liked ("Out of Time") was more orchestral than rock and roll.

Basically, the album was crap.

But it was four bucks.

I'll pay four bucks for crap.

As long as it's sentimental crap.

There's more to tell you, but nothing earth-shattering.

Andrew and I got our hair cut. Andrew was a freakin' terror child while getting it cut. He did NOT want his hair cut and squirmed like crazy.

He's damned lucky he didn't get an eye poked out with scissors.

By his own daddy. Because I came THISCLOSE to picking up a pair of scissors and jabbing his eyes out repeatedly if he didn't quit squirming away from the hairdresser.

But he looks good.

I'd take a picture of him for you, but he's asleep right now.

No sense in waking him up for a picture.

The kid already thinks his old man's a bit strange.

Always humping the watermelons and peeing in the houseplants.

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