Is this thing on?

Published on Monday, December 28th, 2015

Mic check. Holla holla.

Baby Marco Ain’t Eatin That Science

Published on Sunday, May 18th, 2014

Marcus Polio

While Miami eagerly awaits drowning, Marco Rubio confuses political science for climatology.

Good luck, homie.

Old School Erick… I Said I was Sorry!

Published on Sunday, May 18th, 2014

This is Erick Erickson. If you follow political commentary on the web and/or television, you might know him as the founder of Red State (one the most prominent conservative/right wing sites I know of) one of the regulars on Fox, a frequent guest (or topic) on various shows, Twitter troll, and a public speaker and event organizer.

One thing I’ll straighten out right off the bat… though this site shines brightest with bad Photoshops, yak porn (wait, I gotta not joke about that anymore since “furries” became a thing). every once in a while I try to drop a little dollop of truth in here.

Without going into too much detail, Erick and I grew up as high school chums. Practically best friends.

Erick presents himself as sort of an alpha male now, but back in the day it was a whole different story.

Though I loved the guy (and still have a lot of love for his family), homie’s soft. Always has been.

He was born in my old hometown of Jackson Louisiana, partially raised in Dubai (his dad was an oil guy), and moved back just in time to see Jackson at its gangsta-rrific peak. Jackson was the main town in a number of rural areas in Louisiana’s Felicianas area known for being pretty tough. Fortunately for Erick he was able to thrive by never leaving his house except to attend school (where he was an exceptional student).

Erick was pretty much protected from bullies as one of his slightly older sisters was (and still is) a cool, charming, attractive, and super smart chick.

Erick was one of the first people to introduce me to BBS systems back in the day, and though he didn’t drink, I was one of the first of his peers to show him the joys of drinking lots and lots of booze pretty much every day.

In our town (and the towns nearby), I was a floater. I had my hustles going on, loved to fight, hung out with the geeks, drank beer with cheerleaders, ran from local cops all the time, repented every Sunday, wouldn’t drive a car if it wasn’t pimped, and kicked ass at science and had a passion for reading that never really let go.

My geek pals helped feed the geek beast, and my mischief  crew always knew where something fun was at, be it a fight with a neighboring town or just skateboarding down the steepest hills we could find. Shit was tight, no holds barred.

All of this brings us to something of no importance, just a trivial, petty point of fact:

The last time I drank Mad Dog was on Erick’s porch, and also, fuck Cool Ranch Doritos.

I was about 15 or 16, and had spent the day skipping school getting boozed up with the daughter of a state house of representatives’ daughter. She wasn’t skipping school because she was a lot older, and most of the time we spent together was probably illegal.

After a day of getting shnockered, me and my ladypal decided to visit the Erickson home to chill out on the porch with EE and his aforementioned sister… I was working on my second delectable bottle of grape-like-flavored MD (which of course was topping off a bottle or two of Strawberry Hill, the teenage drink of choice at the time).

We had a great time, up until either Erick’s sis or my female partner in crime pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. I was experiencing a mean case of ¬†munchies, and since my pallet had been disabled by whatever chemicals Mogen David had put in my elixir, I crunched hard and attempted to use the crunchy corn snack to tame the pangs that the booze wouldn’t address.

For a number of minutes, everything was great… jokes comprised almost entirely of curse words, who was and who wasn’t pregnant gossip, and all the topics one shares while completely out of their fucking mind.

Then the cold sweats came for a visit.

On the porch swing, I could feel the color run away from my face like an unarmed NRA member running from a fist fight. Things were happening in my belly, and none of these things were good.

It wasn’t subtle… everyone in attendance could see me changing colors like Zartan, so they asked if I was OK.

…to which everyone clearly deciphered as “I gotta throw up.”

I got up, and Erick opened the front door into the house. His room and neighboring bathroom were upstairs, stairs I’d climbed a more times than I can count, but this time I was engaging them with a horrible equilibrium demolishing, chemically enhanced vertigo.

I made it to the door of the bathroom just as I felt the contents of my stomach trying to make it past the back of my tongue, which was acting as the only resistance for what was surely going to be a flood of things no humans should ever bear witness to.

I couldn’t open the door.

I couldn’t open the fucking door.


See, the house was really nice, but it was old. The doorknobs had character… they were pretty, but they all wobbled and you kind’ve had to know exactly what you were doing to make them open easily on the first go.

Erick rushed up, popped the door for me, and in my delirium I bowed to the open vessel that waited for the contents of my gut.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the toilet. I was puking up what seemed like a gallon of purple oatmeal into the Erickson’s porcelain claw toed bathtub.

After a few wretches, I realized what I was doing, but there was no turning back. I couldn’t just swing over mid-regurgitation and aim for a tiny toilet… here, facing the gaping maw of a rather deep washing coffin, I let my tummy spill freely. The cough syrupy wine and formerly powder covered corn chips were seeking liberation, and it was into the bath they found asylum.

I don’t know how or who cleaned up the mess, but after leaving I cleaned up a bit and continued on shindigging around town.

I can’t help but think I traumatized Erick into becoming the pundit he is today.

I’m sorry Erick, and even more sorry to the rest of the world.

Will be crushing shit shortly.

Published on Wednesday, November 27th, 2013

Took some time off to tend to a lot of things.

That time is over. Back to harassing the universe soon.

The Gulf is Fucked

Published on Wednesday, July 24th, 2013

Louisiana is bleeding.

First the spill, then the poisons, now the fire.

Utter bullshit happening in one of the poorest states of the union, thanks to the most profitable industries in the world.

I Didn’t Watch the Zimmerman/Travon Martin Case

Published on Sunday, July 14th, 2013

…I’m not a fan of court television or any type of televised litigation outside of CSPAN. I’m not a pretentious assmunch, it’s just not my bag. It was still pretty much impossible to not be informed and misinformed about various aspects of the case due to the media’s glorification of what went down, and constant juxtaposition to all things we as white, black, men, and women are supposed to relate to.

Everything I needed to learn I learned from everyone’s constant over analysis.

From what I gather, If you’re Republican you were supposed to be for Zimmerman, and if you were Democratic leaning you were supposed to be for Trayvon. Really? Fuck the news.

All I really know is that having a good scrap is gone. I’m not anti gun, but for shit’s sake, what happened to just duking it out? I always hated the crap that led up to a fight, but I’ve always liked the actual act of throwing down, whether I got my ass beat or I was the one serving it up. Guns have ruined that.

I do feel bad for Trayvon. No matter how he was painted, he was a kid. He was shot and killed.

Call me old school, but I’m going to continue not carrying a gun for two reasons:

1. I’m not paranoid.
2. Go fuck yourself.

Add This to Your Dreams

Published on Monday, June 10th, 2013

Threw some old and new music on Myspace. Yeah.

Published on Saturday, June 8th, 2013

No shit, it reminds me of the OG which was a too far ahead of it’s time social media and original music sharing site for indie musicians of pretty much any and every genre.

Anyways, poot:


Published on Sunday, May 26th, 2013

Merry Christmas from Grim and Tray

Published on Tuesday, December 25th, 2012


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