You, like, use these images…

Friends, it has been too long.

You never call. You never write. Where is the love?

The world is turning at a higher than average speed these past few days; where to start…

The election? What can I say?

I wish there was someone to blame besides the American public. The profound disappointment, despair, and loathing I feel wouldn’t weigh so heavily on my soul if you idiots hadn’t brought this down on our own heads.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Rome’s corruption, opulence, and over-extension brought it down, maybe it’s our time as well. A sad day, no doubt, but it’s just global/historical natural selection in action. A glorious empire turned zealous and violent, paranoid and tyrannical… we’ve heard it all before, why should my home be immune to the perpetual forces of civilization at large?

People think I’m exaggerating when I talk like this. I suppose I’ve brought it on myself, given my propensity for bullshittery and nonsense, but seriously… The American people, by due process, re-elected the worst President in American history to a second term. From any economic, moral, environmental, or patriotic point of view, this administration is the worst on record. I say this without party bias, arrogance, or sarcasm.

The economically minded voted for him because they think Democrats waste money. Bush’s foreign policy and internal economics costs jobs and funnels money into rich white dudes’ bank accounts in Trinidad. The Christians voted for him because, well because they’re dumb, but also because they think he shares their morality. If Jesus were here, and I asked him which was the worse sin, letting two dudes get married or slaughtering Iraqis, guess which one’d he pick, biblethumper? I don’t care, if Kerry was an untreated schizophrenic Satanist with an eye-patch, a Van Halen tattoo on his neck, and a raging case of herpes I’d still choose him over Bush as long as his policy wasn’t based on murder, theft, and paranoia.

Whatever. I’ll get the last laugh. When your kids die (and they will), whether on the battlefield in some godforsaken desert across the world or at the hands of an enraged terrorist seeking revenge for his family’s death at the hands of one of Bush’s cruise missiles, you’ll get yours. When we look back and try to figure out why America is no longer an economic superpower (and thus no longer a military or scientific superpower) in twenty years, and China and the EU run the world, guess who’ll be to blame? You, you fucking twats. You. Buy the ticket, take the ride, assmonkey. If we’re dumb enough to put that feeb in charge of our guns and our money and our kids, we don’t deserve to be a superpower. If we’re that dumb, we deserve helmets, mittens, and safety scissors.

Fuck it I’m moving to Brazil anyway. Ciao, filho da puta.

I have not lost all hope. Perhaps California will secede. If there was ever an army I’d enlist in, it’d be a Californian one. Perhaps Bush will abdicate. Perhaps voting Republican is highly carcinogenic. We can always hope.

I had so much else to talk about, but now remembering that dismal night clicking “refresh” on for hours waiting for Ohio’s results has put me in a foul mood. We sat on the porch that awful night, drinking heavily and giving shout outs and fuck yous at the top of our lungs, a sort of Irish wake for the American way of life we’ve known and loved. Thank you Abe Lincoln, fuck you College Republicans. Thank you Jon Stewart, fuck you Charlton Heston. Thank you Blue States, fuck you Rumsfeld. Thank you liberty, fuck you fascism.

I’ve said it before, kids, but I’ll say it again, with feeling.

I hate you all. This is your fault.

I’ll be back in an hour or two to finish this post on a completely different topic and, hopefully, in a completely different mindset.


Though overshadowed by the impending collapse of our nation and thus the free world, by the declaration of martial law in “Free” Iraq, and by the prospect of a military draft, positive things have happened over the last week or so.

I suppose right up until the day the Huns, the Visigoths, and the rest of them kicked in the gates and got their rape & pillage on, Roman twenty-two year olds still got hammered on cheap wine and hollered at the ladies with the shortest togas and bitched about their fantasy gladiatorial teams performing poorly. Why shouldn’t we?

This weekend was great, as I expected. We went to a capoeira event up in The City and got to partake in some of the glory that is a true vida da capoeira. I say again, capoeira is the best anything ever. You probably don’t understand, but it really is. Nothing else even comes close. When we visit our extended family up north or down south in SD, catching up with people so dedicated and engaged in the art that no one but their mother still calls them by their real names, I go green with envy. They live capoeira, training and teaching and playing and traveling. A hard life, but one I have a staggering amount of respect for.

Sipping a Red Stripe with friends I haven’t seen in months, discussing the nuances of a particular game, the outcome of a particular fight, or the melody of a particular song… that’s more than enjoyable, it’s home. To be Corisco for even a few hours, learning and singing and fighting and playing, while leaving Trevor and all his pettiness elsewhere… it’s just better, I don’t know how else to describe it.

Word on the grape vine is that Pete had himself quite a weekend too. He came back giddy as a god damn school girl full of Carlo Rossi, enlivened by his two day association with real live cool ladies. A species thought to be extinct on the Central Coast, Peter found an isolated pocket living in the relative safety of some bumfuck town out near Fresno, undisturbed and untainted. I can sympathize completely; upon returning from the now-legendary Occidental trip, I had a completely repolarized sense of hope and appreciation for the X chromosomers, in fact of humanity in general (Which was promptly demolished by interaction with the locals back in SLO). To see, with one’s own eyes, that ladies of such caliber do indeed exist in the world, well, it’s like seeing a bald eagle on your windowsill, or catching a coelacanth on a nightcrawler off a dock: invigorating, rare in the extreme, and nigh heartrending. Of course I’m pissed I didn’t get to enjoy their company as well (you fucker), but good for you anyway, Pete. If you were a molecule, you’d be Di-Ballerate Straightpimpinol 2+.

Props to Vira way out in Chi-town for totally shirking his responsibilities to go train capoeira. That’s absolutely bomb-diggity.

I had a job interview today… creepy. Opportunity, he is knocking…

Do I answer? Make that paper stack and move on up to the east side? Or do I knee him in the junk and hop a plane for Sao Paulo, to find that street with those stairs and that chubby man upstairs who can turn me into a demi-god? Decisions, decisions.

I’m gone.


Seriously, peace.


“Mestre, what is capoeira?”
“Capoeira is treachery.”

NOTE: Who spelled Coelacanth right on the first try? Me. ph33r.


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