Me names Sheamus. I be in the doubleya doubleya e. I’m the champ. When I’m not slammin bod’es threw toybels, I’m giv’n advoyce to the boys in the bach. Well, now I’m giv’n advoyce to everybody wit me new column, ACH SHEAMUS. Who dares to ach the first question to the “Celtic Warria” ‘imself? Dear Sheamus, I’ve been in a relationship with a girl for about two years now, but I’m a bit worried about something. She still regularly hangs out with her ex-boyfriends, and she is a bit secretive about it. I often worry that she still has feelings for them, but I’m not sure how to bring the topic up. Everything else in the relationship works so well, and I don’t want to sacrifice things just because I’m insecure. What should I do? Worried in Wilmington Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde. That means, “beware the anger of a patient man” in Gaelic. Methinks ya waitin’ to lang to strike. I’m not in a relatinship. I can’t control me fists in the heat of lovemakin’. But if I was, and I was in yar situation, I’d break inta the guy’s home, kill ‘is dog, ‘n stab ‘em wit a sword. Right in da ‘art. Then, I’d put me lady through a toybel. Then, once me good’n reddy, I start aschin’ questions. Is luath fear doimeig air fàire, latha fuar Earraich. I’d say if she fergives ya, makes ya a nice dinner after dat, she ain’t guilty. And if she is, she’s worth keepin’ anyways. But remember, lá pósfá cáilín Truach, pósfá Truagh ar fad. A lady’s potatos are as honest as her characta. That what me Mum told me, before she killed me first love. Dear Sheamus, Recognizing that comportment standards in air travel have slipped considerably since the days of traveling only when fully clothed, I wonder how to handle a situation which has surely troubled many passengers: What does one do, on a fully occupied plane, when seated in proximity to someone snoring loud enough to wake a baby? Is there anything you can recommend? Courteous in Charleston Evar since I became an intarnatin’l oyecon, I been spendin’ a lot’a toyme on airplanes. I’ve ad to deal wit lotsa people invadin’ me leg space, or listenin’ to they oyePods too loud, or complain’n that I spit when I yell at ‘em. Here’s what’d I’d do in that scenario: yell “SHADAP!” and punch him in the soyde so ‘ard, ya break ‘is ribs. Then, drag ‘em dain the oyel, and threat’n to toss him inta da ocean. An nì a thig leis a’ghaoith, falbhaidh e leis an uisge. shamus, you suck as wwe champ. you are a big bully even though you put john cena through a table by attacking him from behind doestn mean you can put him through a table while hes fighting back. you are a pale faget. you suck - CenaFan98 SHADDAP! I BEAT CENA! I PUT ‘IM THREW A TOYBEL AND I’LL PUT YOU THREW A TOYBEL! THEN, I’LL STICK A SWORD THREW YE ‘ART AND YOU’LL DOYE! THEN I’LL WIPE ME PALE ASS WIT YE OBITCHIARY! I’M SHEAMUS, GO’DAMIT! Thanks to ye all for ye questions ‘n comments. If ye want’a send me some mare, just mail me a let’r! You know the ‘dress. But if ye got not’n noyce ta say, I’ll put ya threw a toybel.

Me names Sheamus. I be in the doubleya doubleya e. I’m the champ. When I’m not slammin bod’es threw toybels, I’m giv’n advoyce to the boys in the bach. Well, now I’m giv’n advoyce to everybody wit me new column, ACH SHEAMUS. Who dares to ach the first question to the “Celtic Warria” ‘imself?

Dear Sheamus,

I’ve been in a relationship with a girl for about two years now, but I’m a bit worried about something. She still regularly hangs out with her ex-boyfriends, and she is a bit secretive about it. I often worry that she still has feelings for them, but I’m not sure how to bring the topic up. Everything else in the relationship works so well, and I don’t want to sacrifice things just because I’m insecure. What should I do?

Worried in Wilmington

Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde. That means, “beware the anger of a patient man” in Gaelic. Methinks ya waitin’ to lang to strike.

I’m not in a relatinship. I can’t control me fists in the heat of lovemakin’. But if I was, and I was in yar situation, I’d break inta the guy’s home, kill ‘is dog, ‘n stab ‘em wit a sword. Right in da ‘art. Then, I’d put me lady through a toybel. Then, once me good’n reddy, I start aschin’ questions. Is luath fear doimeig air fàire, latha fuar Earraich.

I’d say if she fergives ya, makes ya a nice dinner after dat, she ain’t guilty. And if she is, she’s worth keepin’ anyways. But remember, lá pósfá cáilín Truach, pósfá Truagh ar fad. A lady’s potatos are as honest as her characta. That what me Mum told me, before she killed me first love.

Dear Sheamus,

Recognizing that comportment standards in air travel have slipped considerably since the days of traveling only when fully clothed, I wonder how to handle a situation which has surely troubled many passengers: What does one do, on a fully occupied plane, when seated in proximity to someone snoring loud enough to wake a baby? Is there anything you can recommend?

Courteous in Charleston

Evar since I became an intarnatin’l oyecon, I been spendin’ a lot’a toyme on airplanes. I’ve ad to deal wit lotsa people invadin’ me leg space, or listenin’ to they oyePods too loud, or complain’n that I spit when I yell at ‘em.

Here’s what’d I’d do in that scenario: yell “SHADAP!” and punch him in the soyde so ‘ard, ya break ‘is ribs. Then, drag ‘em dain the oyel, and threat’n to toss him inta da ocean. An nì a thig leis a’ghaoith, falbhaidh e leis an uisge.

shamus,

you suck as wwe champ. you are a big bully even though you put john cena through a table by attacking him from behind doestn mean you can put him through a table while hes fighting back. you are a pale faget. you suck

- CenaFan98

SHADDAP! I BEAT CENA! I PUT ‘IM THREW A TOYBEL AND I’LL PUT YOU THREW A TOYBEL! THEN, I’LL STICK A SWORD THREW YE ‘ART AND YOU’LL DOYE! THEN I’LL WIPE ME PALE ASS WIT YE OBITCHIARY! I’M SHEAMUS, GO’DAMIT!

Thanks to ye all for ye questions ‘n comments. If ye want’a send me some mare, just mail me a let’r! You know the ‘dress. But if ye got not’n noyce ta say, I’ll put ya threw a toybel.

“Perhaps I was blind to the facts, stabbed in the back,I couldn’t trust my own homies, just a bunch a dirty rats,Will I, succeed, paranoid from the weed,And hocus pocus, try to focus but I can’t see.” Those are the words of Tupac Shakur, as rapped by 8-year-old wunderkind Craig Logan in his new play, Only God Can Judge Me. The play, curiously described as a tale of “absolutely true events” in Craig’s life, has been amazing audiences in his hometown of Tennyson, Indiana. The play tells of Logan’s time growing up in Detroit, and the various crimes he committed while there. One such crime involved assaulting several female classmates as an “initiation” to the Black Mafia Family gang, which landed him in prison for ten years. The play recounts several stories from his time spent in the Michigan State Penitentiary, and his path to becoming a born-again Christian. “Craig is such a smart young man,” explains Craig’s mother and the play’s costume designer, Cheryl Logan, “he organized the whole cast and crew, and wrote the whole play himself. I’m so proud of my little guy.” The rave reviews for his play have attracted attention from curious theatergoers from around the state, and there are even rumors of a tour of Indiana and surrounding states in the near future. “Craig has done a real professional show here,” says Taylor Boon, the director of a number of plays put on by the Warrick County High School drama club. “I’d say we’re going to see Craig Logan’s name in lights on Broadway in the very near future.” “Yo man, [expletive] that [expletive], man. I ain’t never seen her or her drama [expletive] do anything original in that ghetto-ass high school she be working at,” explains the star himself, Craig Logan, in response to the director’s praise. “I care about my mother [expletive] art, [expletive]. The only reason she in charge of that drama club is cause she ain’t want to coach the volleyball team, man. The only thing she good for is a [expletive].” Only God Can Judge Me is in the middle of an extended run at the Tennyson Community Theater. Visit the website for show times and tickets. - Aaron Whrelmf

“Perhaps I was blind to the facts, stabbed in the back,
I couldn’t trust my own homies, just a bunch a dirty rats,
Will I, succeed, paranoid from the weed,
And hocus pocus, try to focus but I can’t see.”

Those are the words of Tupac Shakur, as rapped by 8-year-old wunderkind Craig Logan in his new play, Only God Can Judge Me. The play, curiously described as a tale of “absolutely true events” in Craig’s life, has been amazing audiences in his hometown of Tennyson, Indiana.

The play tells of Logan’s time growing up in Detroit, and the various crimes he committed while there. One such crime involved assaulting several female classmates as an “initiation” to the Black Mafia Family gang, which landed him in prison for ten years. The play recounts several stories from his time spent in the Michigan State Penitentiary, and his path to becoming a born-again Christian.

“Craig is such a smart young man,” explains Craig’s mother and the play’s costume designer, Cheryl Logan, “he organized the whole cast and crew, and wrote the whole play himself. I’m so proud of my little guy.”

The rave reviews for his play have attracted attention from curious theatergoers from around the state, and there are even rumors of a tour of Indiana and surrounding states in the near future.

“Craig has done a real professional show here,” says Taylor Boon, the director of a number of plays put on by the Warrick County High School drama club. “I’d say we’re going to see Craig Logan’s name in lights on Broadway in the very near future.”

“Yo man, [expletive] that [expletive], man. I ain’t never seen her or her drama [expletive] do anything original in that ghetto-ass high school she be working at,” explains the star himself, Craig Logan, in response to the director’s praise. “I care about my mother [expletive] art, [expletive]. The only reason she in charge of that drama club is cause she ain’t want to coach the volleyball team, man. The only thing she good for is a [expletive].”

Only God Can Judge Me is in the middle of an extended run at the Tennyson Community Theater. Visit the website for show times and tickets.

- Aaron Whrelmf

ROAD TRIP JOURNAL DAY 2: I woke up in my car. I didn’t feel like getting a motel room for the night so I slept in my car. My neck hurt. I went to the gas station and filled up my tank with gas. I got some breakfast at Sonic. It was just okay. They bring it right to your car. I ended up stopping at a McDonald’s twenty minutes later to go to take a poop. I didn’t get anything because I already ate. I put in my Gorgoroth CD in the CD player. It wasn’t working. I put on the radio and it sucked. I noticed a sign for a mall at an upcoming exit. I got off at the exit and went to the mall. I got Chinese food at the mall. The Best Buy didn’t have the Gorgoroth CD I wanted. I looked for Hliðskjálf by Burzum. They didn’t have that either. I bought a Garrison Keillor CD instead. It sucked. I drove for the rest of the day. I went to a convenience store to pick up some dinner. This guy came in with a gun and held up the place. He wanted the guy at the store to give him all of his money. I was in the back, so he didn’t see me. I came up behind him and punched him in the ribs. He fell down. I almost got shot. I kicked his gun away from him and I sat on his chest. The guy at the store called the police. I had to answer some questions. He said he would pay for the stuff I was buying because I saved his life. I got chocolate covered pretzels and a porn. I drove for another hour. I started to get tired. I ate the chocolate covered pretzels that I got at the convenience store. I saw a sign for a motel, so I pulled off into that exit. I took this picture in the bathroom. I had an okay day, I guess. 1 DAY UNTIL DISNEY WORLD.

ROAD TRIP JOURNAL DAY 2:

I woke up in my car. I didn’t feel like getting a motel room for the night so I slept in my car. My neck hurt.

I went to the gas station and filled up my tank with gas. I got some breakfast at Sonic. It was just okay. They bring it right to your car. I ended up stopping at a McDonald’s twenty minutes later to go to take a poop. I didn’t get anything because I already ate.

I put in my Gorgoroth CD in the CD player. It wasn’t working. I put on the radio and it sucked. I noticed a sign for a mall at an upcoming exit. I got off at the exit and went to the mall. I got Chinese food at the mall. The Best Buy didn’t have the Gorgoroth CD I wanted. I looked for Hliðskjálf by Burzum. They didn’t have that either. I bought a Garrison Keillor CD instead. It sucked.

I drove for the rest of the day. I went to a convenience store to pick up some dinner. This guy came in with a gun and held up the place. He wanted the guy at the store to give him all of his money. I was in the back, so he didn’t see me. I came up behind him and punched him in the ribs. He fell down. I almost got shot. I kicked his gun away from him and I sat on his chest.

The guy at the store called the police. I had to answer some questions. He said he would pay for the stuff I was buying because I saved his life. I got chocolate covered pretzels and a porn.

I drove for another hour. I started to get tired. I ate the chocolate covered pretzels that I got at the convenience store. I saw a sign for a motel, so I pulled off into that exit.

I took this picture in the bathroom. I had an okay day, I guess.

1 DAY UNTIL DISNEY WORLD.

Oh God. These people have no idea what they’re doing. Every weekend, I play the “Cha Cha Slide” and every weekend I am forced to watch people half-heartedly stepping around like they just woke up from a coma! How are they supposed to “Charlie Brown” when they can’t even get the “slide to the left” down? Do they want me to play the “Electric Slide,” because I will! I don’t need to care about this job! I can just put “Macarena” on repeat, and leave the limbo stick in the van! Don’t they understand that it’s a two-way street? Jesus! Look at that girl! She’s not “bringing it back now, y’all” one bit! She didn’t even bother to put down her drink! And look at Grandma! Where’s the heart? Where’s the soul? Where’s the spirit of the cha cha!? That’s it. I’M GOING OUT THERE.

Oh God. These people have no idea what they’re doing. Every weekend, I play the “Cha Cha Slide” and every weekend I am forced to watch people half-heartedly stepping around like they just woke up from a coma! How are they supposed to “Charlie Brown” when they can’t even get the “slide to the left” down?

Do they want me to play the “Electric Slide,” because I will! I don’t need to care about this job! I can just put “Macarena” on repeat, and leave the limbo stick in the van! Don’t they understand that it’s a two-way street?

Jesus! Look at that girl! She’s not “bringing it back now, y’all” one bit! She didn’t even bother to put down her drink! And look at Grandma!

Where’s the heart? Where’s the soul? Where’s the spirit of the cha cha!?

That’s it. I’M GOING OUT THERE.

Beautiful children, Me llamo Victor. But I believe you know me better as “God,” no? I am espeaking to you today, to tank you for decades of warship. Some of you have even dedicated your lives to me, aha. It es muy apreciado, but no es necesario. I have heard your prayers, and I have tried to help you through hard times. And while some may doubt my existence, aha, hopefully this message will change their minds, no? Muy importanto, I am here to assure you that 2010 will be, aha, no arrrrmageddon. Many of you are fearful that a rapture is coming. That is, how you say, baloney. Pay no attencion to it. Well, I suppose that is all. Tank you for your continued support. Sincerely,Victor (aka the one you call “God”) P.S. Some of you women are very very sexy, but please do no save yourselves for Victor. I do no make the same mistake twice.

Beautiful children,

Me llamo Victor. But I believe you know me better as “God,” no? I am espeaking to you today, to tank you for decades of warship. Some of you have even dedicated your lives to me, aha. It es muy apreciado, but no es necesario.

I have heard your prayers, and I have tried to help you through hard times. And while some may doubt my existence, aha, hopefully this message will change their minds, no?

Muy importanto, I am here to assure you that 2010 will be, aha, no arrrrmageddon. Many of you are fearful that a rapture is coming. That is, how you say, baloney. Pay no attencion to it.

Well, I suppose that is all. Tank you for your continued support.

Sincerely,
Victor (aka the one you call “God”)

P.S. Some of you women are very very sexy, but please do no save yourselves for Victor. I do no make the same mistake twice.

A Clamour

A Film by Brett Davis

Quentin Sherwin-Williams On Susan Boyle & More!
New Music Tuesday with Quentin Sherwin-Williams

Put on your headphones and pop up your collars, it’s Quentin Sherwin-Williams here to give you sheeple the scoop on what’s hot and what isn’t hot in music, because I am better than you.

Rakim
The Seventh Seal

This album made me uncomfortable. It reminded me of the time I was doing E at that shitty club that had those big gold griffins everywhere. I was losing my shit real bad and the bouncer picked me up off the floor and sat me in his car and put on the rap station. It was weird, I woke up and I felt like I totally understood the urban experience. It was horrible.

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tUnE-yArDs
BiRd-BrAiNs 

I don’t know exactly what this is about, because I didn’t listen to it. Still, I don’t like it. If I wanted to go to listen to some art school bitch moaning for three hours, I’d talk to my estranged sister. Fuck that, I would rather listen to this, she’s a total fucktard.

Seriously though, I go to parties and snort coke (the yellow kind, not that shitty white stuff) and take pictures of naked girls in the bathroom. I yell at waiters for no reason. I fuck my Mom’s friends for money. That’s what I do for fun, that’s what normal people do for fun. But this girl? I’m guessing that this girl just sat around her (probably small) apartment recording this thing for months. Is there anything sadder than that?

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OneRepublic
Waking Up

I like these guys because they remind me a lot of myself. Cool hair, cool clothes, tang-magnets, we’re very similar. I was a little nervous reviewing this album because I knew that judging them would be a judgement of myself, in a way.

So I put the album on, closed my eyes, and I immediately started crying. And that wasn’t me being a pussy…I had a religious experience. I declare that Waking Up is THE BEST ALBUM OF 2009! Get out whatever you use to cut lines of the yellow lady and snort that shit up, OneRepublic, you guys have made a masterpiece.

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Annie
Don’t Stop

I once knew this girl named Annie. Total dyke.

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Adam Lambert
Take One

 

Gay people were better in the 1950’s, back when they weren’t so in-your-face about it. Yet, I’m really totally fine when this Lambert dude does it. He’s an American Idol guy, which means he’s the best in America, so I listened to this knowing that if I didn’t like it, I would be wrong. Don’t worry, I loved it! And that means a lot from a professional music journalist like myself.

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Have you seen Steinjive: The MC Steinberg Motion Picture yet? If you have, then thank you so very, very much for watching. If not, then what are you waiting for? The WHOLE MOVIE IS ONLINE, you dope.

Steinjive was written and directed by myself and Don Takano, and takes a look into the twisted world of hip-hop phenomenon MC Steinberg. The film also stars cat aficionado Julie Klausner, blacktop bully Jackie Clarke, mad scientist Jared Whitham, child prodigy Jake Fogelnest, NFL superstar Authority Jones, the smart-mouthed Trenton Willey and (introducing) Darren Mabee & We Are The Seahorses!

This is Orlin. He’s been a member of the force or 13 sum odd years. Some say, havin’ a rabbit on the force is a risky move, but it’s a risky job. Sometimes, you need a guy with the skills that the rest of the force don’t have. Orlin’s got those skills, let me tell you. Them rabbits are fast, but Orlin, well…he’s smart. We found him nibblin’ the fingers of a purse snatcher he caught on his own. We pulled up in our squad car, and the guy didn’t even put up a fight. Orlin wore ‘em out. We gave the guy an invite to training camp and after mullin’ it over for ‘bout a week, Orlin showed up at camp. Let me tell you, he blew everybody else away. He didn’t even break a sweat. Two years later, Orlin was an official member of the force, floppy ears and all. He has served us well. When there was a robbery at the local Quik-N-Pick, Orlin managed to sneak into the store, disarm the robber, and drag him out, so we could cuff him. No offense to the guy, but he ain’t too good at cuffin! Still, he’s an invaluable member of the force, and there are so many times he’s saved my behind, that I might was well owe my life to ‘em. Now, I ain’t sayin’ Orlin’s perfect. There’s a part of town that’s got a lot of um…homasexuals? Well, back in 2004, Orlin was trying to bust up a party that got out of hand, and he used a bit too much excessive force, and it caused a bit of a hubbub in the papers. Orlin came under fire, and people were talkin’ ‘bout him like he was anti-gay or somethin. Now I don’t want to comment on his private life, but Orlin was just battlin’ some personal demons at the time, and I guess he exploded at the wrong place and wrong time. But he is NOT a gay-hater, let me tell you. I consider Orlin a great partner, and a real good friend. When I got married to my second wife nine years ago, Orlin was up there with me as one of my groomsmen. We’ve had dinner at each other’s houses so many times, that he’s practically a member of the family. (The wives get along great, as well.) I wouldn’t hesitate to risk my butt for Orlin, and he’s shown me a number of times that he wouldn’t hesitate to risk his safety for mine, either. I’d take a bullet for ‘em. Damn, now you got me all emotional ‘bout it.

This is Orlin. He’s been a member of the force or 13 sum odd years. Some say, havin’ a rabbit on the force is a risky move, but it’s a risky job. Sometimes, you need a guy with the skills that the rest of the force don’t have. Orlin’s got those skills, let me tell you.

Them rabbits are fast, but Orlin, well…he’s smart. We found him nibblin’ the fingers of a purse snatcher he caught on his own. We pulled up in our squad car, and the guy didn’t even put up a fight. Orlin wore ‘em out. We gave the guy an invite to training camp and after mullin’ it over for ‘bout a week, Orlin showed up at camp. Let me tell you, he blew everybody else away. He didn’t even break a sweat. Two years later, Orlin was an official member of the force, floppy ears and all.

He has served us well. When there was a robbery at the local Quik-N-Pick, Orlin managed to sneak into the store, disarm the robber, and drag him out, so we could cuff him. No offense to the guy, but he ain’t too good at cuffin! Still, he’s an invaluable member of the force, and there are so many times he’s saved my behind, that I might was well owe my life to ‘em.

Now, I ain’t sayin’ Orlin’s perfect. There’s a part of town that’s got a lot of um…homasexuals? Well, back in 2004, Orlin was trying to bust up a party that got out of hand, and he used a bit too much excessive force, and it caused a bit of a hubbub in the papers. Orlin came under fire, and people were talkin’ ‘bout him like he was anti-gay or somethin. Now I don’t want to comment on his private life, but Orlin was just battlin’ some personal demons at the time, and I guess he exploded at the wrong place and wrong time. But he is NOT a gay-hater, let me tell you.

I consider Orlin a great partner, and a real good friend. When I got married to my second wife nine years ago, Orlin was up there with me as one of my groomsmen. We’ve had dinner at each other’s houses so many times, that he’s practically a member of the family. (The wives get along great, as well.) I wouldn’t hesitate to risk my butt for Orlin, and he’s shown me a number of times that he wouldn’t hesitate to risk his safety for mine, either. I’d take a bullet for ‘em. Damn, now you got me all emotional ‘bout it.

Your highness, I requested this meeting with you to discuss my future at your kingdom. I have enjoyed my 20 years as your faithful harlequin, however the many years of bell ringing, high kicks, and witty political rhymes have left me yearning for freedom. However, I come not to simply ask for my freedom, but to make a bargain. I, Harvey the Fool, present my son: Charley the Buffoon. He has a healthy sense of humor, no physical ailments, and a boy soprano singing voice. He has worked as my motley apprentice ever since his mother died. I gained custody by default, as I was no longer taking methamphetamines. I trained him to be a master jester quite easily as he realized that the more he learned, the more often he was granted permission to eat. If he fails to perform, I cut him between his toes with an electric drill as punishment. Despite this, he can dance and prance with ease! I hope you consider this trade carefully. Charley the Buffoon can offer you many more decades of entertainment than I. However, if you choose my son to be my successor, keep this in mind: NO BACKSIES.

Your highness, I requested this meeting with you to discuss my future at your kingdom. I have enjoyed my 20 years as your faithful harlequin, however the many years of bell ringing, high kicks, and witty political rhymes have left me yearning for freedom.

However, I come not to simply ask for my freedom, but to make a bargain. I, Harvey the Fool, present my son: Charley the Buffoon. He has a healthy sense of humor, no physical ailments, and a boy soprano singing voice.

He has worked as my motley apprentice ever since his mother died. I gained custody by default, as I was no longer taking methamphetamines. I trained him to be a master jester quite easily as he realized that the more he learned, the more often he was granted permission to eat. If he fails to perform, I cut him between his toes with an electric drill as punishment. Despite this, he can dance and prance with ease!

I hope you consider this trade carefully. Charley the Buffoon can offer you many more decades of entertainment than I. However, if you choose my son to be my successor, keep this in mind: NO BACKSIES.

Sorry team, we have been informed that because of the craziness that ensued on Friday night, we are no longer allowed to “loosen up” either in or out of the workplace. P.S. If you haven’t fowarded this picture to your family and friends, please do so. This girl’s family is worried that she may be hurt, and we don’t know who she is or what happened to her. P.P.S. The owner of the novelty shop is still in critical condition, and if you haven’t put in a few dollars to send him a bouquet of flowers, please do so. - Edwin

Sorry team, we have been informed that because of the craziness that ensued on Friday night, we are no longer allowed to “loosen up” either in or out of the workplace.

P.S. If you haven’t fowarded this picture to your family and friends, please do so. This girl’s family is worried that she may be hurt, and we don’t know who she is or what happened to her.

P.P.S. The owner of the novelty shop is still in critical condition, and if you haven’t put in a few dollars to send him a bouquet of flowers, please do so.

- Edwin

Rebel Randy’s Road Diaries Entry Date: October 20, 1979 I took part in an orgy last night. Hitchhiking can take you places. It can take you to the car of a woman, who’s much to old to be driving in the first place, let alone picking up a stranger. But like me, she was a rebel. Pauline was her name, and her game had no rules. I could tell by the wheezing that she was a smoker. She asked for a Marlboro, but I passed her some hash. That soothed the nerves. I asked her, “When was the last time you went out dancing?” “1955,” she said, “just before my husband died.” A widow? Jackpot. You know how they say older women are better in bed, because they’re more experienced? Well, older widows are even better, because they go into it with nothing to lose. If you’ve never had the pleasure, invest in some lube, and give it a shot. We picked up her friend Ruth. She wasn’t a natural redhead, but I had a good feeling the carpet matched the drapes. I was right. Dancing led to drinking. Drinking led to a motel room, which led to even more drinking. After passing around the hashish, we felt a little looser, and that’s where things got a little blurry. And let me tell you, the blurrier things got, the better. I woke up before sunrise, left $30 on the table for the room, and rode out of town. I miss Pauline and Ruth, but I know I have many more places to see on this journey with no end. Until next time, Rebel Randy Rebel Randy is writing this article while motorcycling across North America. Due to the sporadic nature of his writing, there is no set date for his next journal entry to reach publication. For a compendium of his journals dating from June 1975- September 1978 (Volume III), please send a check or money order of $10.00 to The Charlotte Barb, P.O. Box 159, Charoltte NC, 28201.

Rebel Randy’s Road Diaries

Entry Date: October 20, 1979

I took part in an orgy last night.

Hitchhiking can take you places. It can take you to the car of a woman, who’s much to old to be driving in the first place, let alone picking up a stranger. But like me, she was a rebel. Pauline was her name, and her game had no rules.

I could tell by the wheezing that she was a smoker. She asked for a Marlboro, but I passed her some hash. That soothed the nerves.

I asked her, “When was the last time you went out dancing?”

“1955,” she said, “just before my husband died.”

A widow? Jackpot.

You know how they say older women are better in bed, because they’re more experienced? Well, older widows are even better, because they go into it with nothing to lose. If you’ve never had the pleasure, invest in some lube, and give it a shot.

We picked up her friend Ruth. She wasn’t a natural redhead, but I had a good feeling the carpet matched the drapes. I was right.

Dancing led to drinking. Drinking led to a motel room, which led to even more drinking. After passing around the hashish, we felt a little looser, and that’s where things got a little blurry. And let me tell you, the blurrier things got, the better.

I woke up before sunrise, left $30 on the table for the room, and rode out of town. I miss Pauline and Ruth, but I know I have many more places to see on this journey with no end.

Until next time,

Rebel Randy

Rebel Randy is writing this article while motorcycling across North America. Due to the sporadic nature of his writing, there is no set date for his next journal entry to reach publication. For a compendium of his journals dating from June 1975- September 1978 (Volume III), please send a check or money order of $10.00 to The Charlotte Barb, P.O. Box 159, Charoltte NC, 28201.

by Vic Higgins Hey, Higgins here. I’m writing this, because I am so damn cool and it pisses me off sometimes. I just want y’all to understand where I’m coming from, because most people just ain’t as cool as I am. Believe it or not, but it’s not easy being this damn cool. For example, when I walk down the street, people stop and look at me and my cool threads and kickin’ shades. Sometimes they’ll say, “Check him out!” or “Get a load of that kid!” and I ‘gnore ‘em. Of course, I can’t help but think to myself: I am so goddamn cool. But I don’t need to be reminded every friggin’ minute of every friggin’ day, people! But there are other times, when people–the “normies” as I call ‘em–point and stare at me, like I’m some sort of freakin’ god or somethin’. Sometimes, I just want to stop being friggin’ treated like a damn god! Is that too damn much to ask? Another reason that it kinda sucks to be as great as I am, is that people will be mean to me, just because I’m so damn cool all of the time. It’s like everybody wants to be me, and they just won’t admit that they be jealous. They would just rather write mean comments on my vlogs. So this goes out to all the people out there who are jealous of me: You don’t even know me, and you never will, because I have a very exclusive social circle that you will never be a part of! Jealousy will get you nowhere, especially in my book, pal. You can be jealous all you want, but when it comes down to it, I’m the only one seeing this face in the mirror at night. No matter how many times you pray to the one you call god, you can never be me. IT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN, GUY. Sorry for ranting, but it just pisses me off, goddamnit! Peace, Love, Higgins.

by Vic Higgins

Hey, Higgins here. I’m writing this, because I am so damn cool and it pisses me off sometimes. I just want y’all to understand where I’m coming from, because most people just ain’t as cool as I am. Believe it or not, but it’s not easy being this damn cool.

For example, when I walk down the street, people stop and look at me and my cool threads and kickin’ shades. Sometimes they’ll say, “Check him out!” or “Get a load of that kid!” and I ‘gnore ‘em. Of course, I can’t help but think to myself: I am so goddamn cool. But I don’t need to be reminded every friggin’ minute of every friggin’ day, people!

But there are other times, when people–the “normies” as I call ‘em–point and stare at me, like I’m some sort of freakin’ god or somethin’. Sometimes, I just want to stop being friggin’ treated like a damn god! Is that too damn much to ask?

Another reason that it kinda sucks to be as great as I am, is that people will be mean to me, just because I’m so damn cool all of the time. It’s like everybody wants to be me, and they just won’t admit that they be jealous. They would just rather write mean comments on my vlogs.

So this goes out to all the people out there who are jealous of me: You don’t even know me, and you never will, because I have a very exclusive social circle that you will never be a part of! Jealousy will get you nowhere, especially in my book, pal. You can be jealous all you want, but when it comes down to it, I’m the only one seeing this face in the mirror at night. No matter how many times you pray to the one you call god, you can never be me. IT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN, GUY.

Sorry for ranting, but it just pisses me off, goddamnit!

Peace, Love,

Higgins.

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