I’m a struggling artist, a frenetic writer, and a highly (informed) opinionated individual. I have a lot to say. I have a lot to share. Some of it may make you laugh, some of it may piss you off, some of it may make you think. Whatever the case, I hope it leaves you with something more than what you came here with. Take it with you. Share it. Bury it. Boil it. Make it your own (except my art. Steal it and my personal SWAT team will find you…and probably blow up your Prius).Come on in. Sit down. Stay a while. Start clicking. Start reading. Leave me a comment. Challenge me. I will comment back. Promise. Don’t be a comment ninja, though. Don’t start a debate with me, and then ding-dong ditch. Man up. Woman up. Whatever. Let’s “thread it out, bitch.”

Ultimately, I hope you come here to enjoy yourself. New blogs go up at random. Help keep me inspired and to stay consistent by posting comments and feeding (or starving) my ego in doing so.  Welcome to my world, done my way.


Oh, you want to know more?  You want my life story?  All right, all right.  Here we go; I was born to Guatemalan Pirates on a ship called the Spicy Jalapeno (not to be confused with the sexual position) and was later abandoned in the Russian wilderness and raised as a rabid wolf boy (yes, I had rabies) until I was picked up by a traveling circus.  I performed in the freak show for a bit, until I got the hula hoop girl pregnant and she had my puppies.  I went on the lam and ended up in Tibet, where I was briefly reborn as the new Dalai Lama, but since I faked it and nobody bought it, I traversed on over to India where I stole shoes and chickens to pay for Bollywood cable TV.  Then, I got bored and dressed in a goat suit, locked myself up in a cage on a cargo plane, and flew to Australia.  Once I arrived to my “farm,” I unzipped and frolicked in the Outback for a bit, and eventually became an honorary Aborigine (I think it’s because I’m NOT black).

My Mentor.

Alas, my journey in the land “Down Unda” came to a close and I built a sailboat out of coconuts and porta-potties and sailed to Somalia where shit. sucked. hard.  So, pretty much, I bolted from there and decided to hit up Chile, mostly because I thought they would have the best chili in the world.  But, they didn’t.  It was just Spanish food and shit.  Bogus name.  I had kept hearing about this place where food was abundant and people that acted like crazy fruit loops were celebrated and decided that was the place for me.  They called it “Amedika” (I later found out it was “America.”)  I crossed the border into Arizona, dodging National Guard bullets and the Mexican mafia and strode into Hollywood, where shit. sucked. hard. again.  I was crazy, but these people were straight wack.  They just wanted to smoke pot, ride around on roller skates, and sell t-shirts at the beach.

Just before my first haircut.

One day, while trying to steal a car, this dude in fatigues (Army speak for “uniform”) asked what the fuck I was doing.  I told him I was trying to steal the car and he offered me a job.  All I had to do was sign a few papers (I just made my “mark,” which I learned in Australia;  You dip your bare ass in blue paint and sit where the signature is required)  and I’d be up and running, making money, traveling, and possibly killing people.  I had put my application in for this place at a mall called “The Gap” were they let you do some of that stuff, except killing people, so I opted for the other job.

Many, many years later, I wound up in this place where this really famous lady lives.  She makes babies and pisses off the wussy population of “Amedika,” which I found kind of funny.  It was cold and had bears and moose all over, so I thought that might be cool to chill with them and relive my wolf boy days (although I’m no longer rabid.  And also, house trained).  I then got on the interwebs and bought a Polack, who was sent to the doorstep of my igloo a month later.  Although not as advertised (does not cook and has no respect for me) my new Polack gave birth to a cub, who we named “Creamy,” a traditional Aborigine name (or was it a racial slur?) and he will now conquer the world after traveling with his grandparents on their next plunder in Guatemala.  Also, he will go to the Harvard.  A place for smart Amedikans.

The Queen of Our Land.

I hope you have enjoyed the tale of my life so far.  There will be more to come.  In case you didn’t catch it, I’m chock full of sarcasm, cynicism, and other literary terms and devices.  I’m not the smartest man in the world nor am I the most dumbest (someone check this for spelling, I’m tired.).  So, let’s recap.  I am awesome.  Not necessarily smart.  You should come back to my site to read my bullshit.  It will make you laugh and you may find yourself agreeing with me.  You might not.  If so, call me an asshole in the comments section.  I will name call you back.  Promise.

For serious, though.  Welcome.  Giinagay!