Gift Hands

I watched hockey for the first time ever yesterday. Well, not ever, but I watched it for more than six minutes and tried to pay attention to what was happening. Clard-Boiled-Egg turned it on because he is from that place where everybody loves hockey. You know, Texas. So we watched it and he kept telling me about the obvious stuff that I didn,t understand. Stuff like tripple plays from the thirty yard line and how Magic Johnson doesn,t have HIV anymore. I mostly just wanted to know about how frequent it was for somebody to get hit in the throat with sticks and who, in the entire history of the NHL, had the biggest beard.

Then I started talking about what I would do if I were the boss of hockey. I would make rules like – If you get a penalty for roughing the kicker or something, you can still keep playing but you can,t play to your full ability. You would have to wear two left skates or a jersey that is way too small. I also like the idea of an SAT style point system where for every goal you make you get one point but for every goal you miss you lose one point. Games would range in the negative hundreds and it would be unheard of for any team to ever break even.

Bygones - Spiritual Bankruptcy
I haven,t watched the Olympics in like 12 years, but I have been keeping up with this one so far. I saw that video of that luger exploding when he flew off the track and smashed into that pole. And I saw that other video when that whale ate that ice-skater. And then the horse-faced Shaun White,s coach or whatever you call the people that train horses cussed and said some weird anti-Semitic stuff on live TV. All of that stuff has been fun but I feel like if I were doing any of this stuff in the Olympics with a billion people watching, I would be going nuts and screaming and spitting all the time. I don’t, understand why people don’t do that. It would really bum out all the tiny Korean dudes that you would be skate-running next to.

Now I,m going to have to spit in somebody,s face to get rid of this anxiety I just built up writing that last sentence. I blame Korea. No, I blame that idiot with stupid, giant soul patch that keeps winning stuff. I wish he never won anything. He looks like he should be hosting Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives on Food Network. Food Network is so much better than the Olympics.

Tiny Children Screaming

Today, while I was walking to work I saw a table with three men sitting at it outside of a house in the driveway. The table was covered with a bunch of different condiments - relish, BBQ sauce, mustard, onion sprouts, livered cod milk, sauerkraut, tomato chips, jellied briskets, ketchup and many others. As I approached the magnificent bounty I turned off my Sony Walkman so I could hear whatever insightful musings the three proprietors at the table would bestow unto me.

J Spaceman - Guitar Loops
Passing their intricately arranged table, one of the backwards-hatted men barked at me, ,,Hot dogs for a dollar!,, I shuddered and kept walking. A few steps further, a wobbly-legged homelessesque man looked me dead in the eye and whispered, ,,You,d better get one of those goddamn hot dogs.,, I simply gave my standard response when propositioned like this - I shouted an indistinguishable, guttural noise and quickened my pace. I deeply regret not humbly accepting his advice, for I will never know the sweet, mysteries that lay concealed in the small, blue ice chest at the feet of those great men.

Where Is My Vocoder?

I hate those videos and books and pamphlets and notes written in blood about conspiracy theory stuff. You know, stuff like George Bush is really the gecko from those insurance commercials and the wind from the World Trade Center falling created Hurricane Katrina. I hate that stuff and the stuff where people, when they,re in high school or dumb college or something, talk about how Thanksgiving was really just a swap meet where the pilgrims gave the Reds small pox blankets and taught them about the receiving end of rape and slavery. They say it like a big surprise or that you,ve been so duped your whole life for thinking that having dinner with your family is rad.

Michael Cashmore - Sleep England
In the spirit of hating idiots that try to get one over on you for liking anything, I looked up a short history of Valentine,s day a little bit ago in hopes of finding similar paranoid, anarcho-punk, idiot ramblings. Instead, I found out that Valentine,s day was created over a million years ago by those dudes that wear funny white hats. I forget if it was the Popes or the Klan. But one of them made it up in honor of some guy that may have been named Valentino that got killed in Africa once for some possibly-unknown reason and was buried in February. Dumb. And don,t even get me started on how the word February is spelled. Or that gross, red, cock-sauce, Sriracha. I don,t think anybody says it like that. They all say Surratcha.

I like that I,m sort of acting like Mister Sanctimonious riding my high horse up the stairs of my ivory tower to put a shinier silver spoon in my mouth when I just found out that there was that first R in there like a month ago.

Tanks!

So, you should read the previous Bline before you read this one if you haven,t already. It,ll make a tiny bit more sense that way.

Just in case the dead-serious comments on the previous Bline go away, I present them in their full grandeur. Unfortunately, three of them were gone before I could read them but I,m sure they were as dead-on as the remaining two are. It may be hard to believe but I did not write these literary gems. I wish I had. They,re pretty good.

They were posted by a mysterious internet personality. Not unlike Ghostwriter. Remember that show? I never liked it. I wonder if the person that wrote the following stuff is also a glowing blue ball of beautiful sparkles that solves spooky mysteries. I hope so.

,,You invited her in, you answered her e-mails, you don,t have a case. Idiot.,,

The Goslings - Grandeur Of Hair
,,you know, you could have just told her earlier on that you were not interested in her. I don,t even know you yet i know that you were a douche-bag,and yet for some reason she still wanted to be friends with you. And how dare you criticize her art. Have you heard your music? After listening to your crap, I needed to rehabilitate myself with real music. I don,t get what she ever saw in you but at least she knows now how much of a douche bag you are.,,

I,m very surprised and happy to know that at least one person reads this waste of time known as Bline Zogazine. I sort of can,t believe anybody would take the time to (alliteration) read all of that pompous, self-important, misspelled, poorly articulated drivel I diarrheaed out. I think we can all agree that the last Bline was way too long. Pretty annoying considering how much of a baby I am when it comes to reading anything over four sentences. Great, now this one is way too long too. I,m an idiot.

Thanks Victoria9. Keep up the good work. Luv ya gurl!