Steve used to be embarrassed by his constant erection, but now that he was hitting strictly on cougars, it was a huge asset.
December 13, 2014
December 12, 2014
December 10, 2014
December 9, 2014
60 seconds, motherfuckers. Just hang on for 60-fucking ticks. Christ, this is dick-sandwich time.
Stop it. No bad thoughts. No bad juju, not now. Now is when the Fish need you most. It's now time. Hold the line.
"Hold it. Right here, baby! We hold them here and it's ball game! Sweet Jesus who art in heaven, please let them hold it right here, baby!"
"Does baby Jesus root for the Dolphins too, Daddy?" Asks Charlene, the yelling guy's precocious 6-year-old daughter.
"Ask your mother, Char, Daddy's focusing...”
The Dolphins don't hold.
First down Bills. Down to the Dolphins 34. But the Fins are still up by 4.
"Right now, fuckers. Just keep 'em out the endzone, Fish! Right now!"
"That's a quarter, daddy. Actually, two."
"Charlene! Not now! And there's no charges during Dolphins games, right?" Now is when they always fucking take that big fucking bite of hot dick sandwich.
Bills reverse to Sammy Watkins for 4 yards.
Since I can remember, I've been affected by John Lennon. I recall vaguely the day he died, 34 years ago today, and being very scared, because my parents were very sad. It was the first time I can recall seeing sadness like that.
But mostly, my memories of John recall being infatuated with his life of art. Every little thing that oozed out of him was art. And John made me want to be art too.
These photos of doodles, which I retouched today, are taken from random notebooks I've kept through the years. I imagine each doodle came to be, because upon hearing John sing, I stopped doing whatever it was I was supposed to be doing, and became compelled to create instead.
He continues to have that effect. So for me, John's as alive as ever.