God said to abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe said, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"


good afternoon my fellow pseudo-intellectuals,

listening to some dylan again....

it's good to be back on. i've actually lost a post or two here this week, so don't think i've just been being lazy. you wouldn't imagine how much i work for you guys. i love you so much......every single one of you.........except a few.
you know who you are, motherfuckers.

so what's been going on?

i went and saw mcclure, travis linville, rodney pyeatt, and tom skinner last sunday do a four man songswap at the clubhouse concerts at the horseman club with my uncle robert and roger ray.........

Now, you may be wondering, "Why didn't you get to play, scott? you only live a couple of miles from there, and you continuously tell everybody how bad ass you are. you would think that maybe YOU would get to invited to play at that thing every once in a while. why is that you've never had a gig there, scottie? please tell me."

okay i will.......

it is because i'm am so bad ass that they are not even ready to hear the badassness i'm fucking throwing down in this motherfucking town.

no, not really.

it's probably because i say fuck and cunt a lot. i can't help it. i told you i was diagnosed with teret's syndrome by a professional doctor, didn't I?.

motherfucking pussy cunt bitch.

okay, i feel better.

so anyway, tom skinner absolutely knocked my socks off. i haven't been bowled over like that by a songwriter in a good while. he can really deliver a song.

afterwards, he asked roger and i if we wanted to go over to his hotel room and do some guitar picking and songswapping and shit. are you fucking kidding me?

to make a long story short....

i didn't get home until 5:30 in the morning.

it was a great night. i appreciate being included. tom asked me to come up to a weekly gig he hosts in bristow, ok. or tulsa? i can't remember which one. note to self: remind me to email him and set that up. okay, i will.

what else can i blabber about?

dude, last night i kept breaking out in sweats and shit. it was horrible. i'd be freezing cold one minute and the next minute i was drenched in sweat. i had some fucking really weird dreams, too. i can't remember any of them, though.

oh wait,
there was one where i was trapped underneath a goal post and my ex college coach was spitting in my face while i was bleeding profusely out of the mouth. i think that's right when i woke up.

then there was the one where the two cops busted me at a show and took me out back and starting peeing on me while i had my hands cuffed behind my back. that's right when i woke up the second time.

that's all i can remember right now.

man, i need a haircut.

i'm starting to look a little like charlie manson and shit.

good ol' andy pate came by yesterday and i cooked him some of my famous spaghetti sauce. we ate like kings and watched "The Three Amigos". good times.

i took a shower earlier and washed my hair, and as i reached for the shampoo i noticed that there were directions on the bottle. of course, i read them very carefully and thought i let you in on them. they came in four parts and here they are word for word.

1. Wet hair

i knew i had been doing something wrong.

2. Apply Pantene to hair liberally, all over.

i'm glad they included the "all over" part. i was just putting it in my bangs.

3. for best results, leave in for three minutes.

i timed this using the ol' one mississippi two mississippi deal.

4. for proper styling, rinse thoroughly.

of course, if you don't desire proper styling you might oughta rinse thoroughly as well.

jesus christ, people.

how fucking stupid do they think we are?

i should have said, "how fucking stupid do they think YOU are".

because i'm the motherfucking NEO in this bitch. they're scared of me and you all know it. i'm the one.

when i was in high school, i remember whenever i took football pictures for the program and shit, i always tried to make the biggest smile i could. all my friends tried to put their bad ass faces on, but not me. we always saw the program pictures of the guy we would be going against from the opposing team and i didn't want the other dude to think i thought i was bad ass if he saw my picture. i wanted him to think that i was a really nice guy. that way, for at least the first quarter, he would be completely confused as too who he's playing after i spit on him and racked him at the bottom of the pile. it would then enter his head that i may be crazy or something and fear would set in.

it was all just a crazy mental game i liked to play with my opponents. i like to have an edge.

well, i hope this one posts.

if it doesn't, you won't get to read this anyway so fuck it.


after a while crocodile,

scott

p.s. somebody better start asking king bignoggan some questions. he enjoys answering questions from the little brains and he is starting to get very irritated. you should all be afraid. be very afraid.