Tuesday, February 2, 2010


Being an international punk rock superstar ain’t easy. It’s hard partying all the time. Being a buff dude can really take its toll. The societal expectations of being a badass motherfucker in this day and age ain’t like in the good old days. You think Rollins had to deal with this kinda shit? Fuck no, he didn’t. He was living the high life with Kira. The only problem I can see with this whole extreme lifestyle thing I got going on is where to acquire the funds to facilitate said lifestyle. Drugs, selling ass, food service.

Let’s start with drugs. Well, if I got em, I’ll take em and there goes the money, which would kind of defeat the purpose. I’m not anti-drug by any means. I’m more anti-jail and definitely anti- being some strung out Manic Mike type dude. More than likely I’d fuck up and get involved in some MS13 bullshit and get my ears chopped off because I’m fucking stupid. I’d owe em money and they’d light my childhood home up like a fucking Christmas tree. The only really punk way of selling drugs would be selling bags of glue outside of shows at an all ages show space. Punk style. Ok. Mark it. Sell glue.

Selling ass. DEE DEE did it best, so why try to fuck with it. Dee Dee was a young, skinny, super cute little trick with a twinkle in his eye and down strokes in his heart. He had a healthy junk habit to support and knew what he had to do to get what he needed. Most of us, on the other hand, would just give blowjobs to buy Spanish records and tattoos. I tried selling my body for cash once. Apparently there isn’t much of a market for ugly chubby dudes down on 53rd and 3rd. Bummerville, population: Logan. Back to the drawing board, I guess. And as far as being an actual pimp, well, punks could never do such a thing. I’d be a horrible pimp. Now, selling dudes, on the other hand... I could sell the shit out of some dudes. Even got a couple fellas in mind. Guys today are looking for a clean buff type of brother and I for one feel that I could supply that demand. It’s hard out there for a pimp.

What I’m trying to say is that most of us punks gotta work really shitty fucking jobs just to get by. Frankly, mine ain’t all that bad. I don’t have to do it much and it’s something a retarded monkey could learn to do in about an hour. However, you still work shitty hours and basically suck dicks to make rent. Y’all know what I’m talking bout living on tips. It’s rough. Of course, like I said, that’s only a few days a week and only every couple months. Rest of the time I fancy myself an odd jobs kind of guy. You know, driving people around, picking up things, selling my wares. I’m also quite the fixture at the local pawnshop, but after many years of this kinda bullshit, it’s really starting to suck the life out of me. It’s really time to find a new way to make a living. Why is it that if you have no education and no skills you are reduced to a life of servitude? I can read. Kinda.

Now, being a 5th generation Texan, begging and asking for money is just not an option. Fuck these little scumbags down on the corner asking me for my fucking money. I’ll give the shit out of some money to an elderly person down on their luck just getting by on getting by or maybe a hobo who tells good jokes. Fuck all the generic debris sitting by the highway with their six dogs, 3 teeth (and probably from Chattanooga ) basically demanding me to hand over a few bucks. Fuck that. Get a job already. Remember that ANTI SEEN song “Spare Change”? I support it.

All you really need are your friends and records. Nowadays you don’t actually need either. We got the Internet now. 2009 is pissing all over punk. I’m not saying I don’t download DAC records online, but Jesus fucking Christ. Get the fuck out and live, man. However, people who say money can’t buy you happiness ain’t never been poor.