The Eternal Sadist

Let me in!
Let me in!

Not by the hair of your chinny-chin-chin.
You must suffer and wait.
Your lot is there.
Live life proper, grim and bare.

I don't want to wait;
I want to get in.
I'll speed to my death.
I won't wait for the rest.

These rules exist.
They cannot be bent.
I made them in time,
That you would not die.

I suffer and wait.
I can no longer stand it.
Please let me expire,
That I might rise higher.

You will suffer and wait;
It's accord to my plan.
Elders will say,
"You've much more to pay."

---

"Subduction leads to Orogeny"

I saw a sticker expressing this phrase on one of the doors of the ES (Earth Sciences) building at the infamous Palomar College today. Because I had absolutely no idea what it meant, I decided to write it down and make an attempt to elucidate the mystery as soon as I got home. Imagine my disappointment when I found out that the phrase in question had no sexual connotations whatsoever...at least in the literal sense.

What Sex Toy Are You?

I'm so cool...

---

I'd rather my mother read about my coital misadventures than your endless drivel. Besides, the dialogue between you, me, Phil, and the Taco-Bell drive-thru lady last night was way more interesting:

Taco-Bell: (squak) Welcome to Taco-Bell, would you like to try one of our grilled steak burritos?

Phil: Um, no. Hold on a minute.

Taco Bell: Thank you for choosing Taco Bell, please order when you're ready.

Ray: I have a dollar.

Phil: I don't have any money.

Ray: I want a number six, baja beef.

Phil: Yeah I want one of those too.

Tom: I only got eight dollars. Ray you have one?

Ray: Yeah. (reaches into wallet, hands over dollar)

Tom: How much do you have, Phil?

Phil: Nothing.

Tom: Nothing?

Phil: I have some quarters.

Tom: Shit.

Ray: Let's go to the bank.

Tom: Are you sure?

Ray: Yeah, let's go.

Tom: Get us out of here Phil.

(awkward pause)

Phil: Um...we'll be back.

Taco-Bell: (silence)

Phil: See ya.

(awkward pause)

Tires screech as we haul ass out of the drive-thru.

Incidentally, the first Rage gig last week at Brick by Brick went well. I only started to lose my flu-addled voice at the very end of the show. The rest of the band played well throughout. It's always very educational playing with musicians who are older and more experienced. Thus far they've approached every endeavor with a Zen-like calmness and are very understanding when things don't go according to plan. It makes me incredibly glad that I have a group of my own to alienate and lord over at every turn.

What would a "Raytonic Dialogue" with Plato, Frank Zappa, and Robert Anton Wilson actually read like? Why do I put myself in these situations?

I find it interesting that you are slightly embarrassed that your mother might read the words ANAL SEX; however, you don't seem to mind her reading about your sexual escapades. You sick, sick fuck.

Well I'm still sick and I feel bad for not posting anything for almost a week. That's not to say there haven't been a few rather interesting developments...but I'm not going to talk about them right now. I'd rather write about:

SEXUAL ROLE REVERSAL WITH BEAUTIFUL ANNAVELLE

We got home the other day and eventually flopped down on the bed. Somehow she ended up on top of me and began vigorously dry-humping me. A bit startled at the ferociousness of her technique I exclaimed, “Hey, that’s not how I do it, I have a little more control than that!” To which she replied, “Yeah you’re more like this,” and began grinding her pelvis against me in slow, mockingly exaggerated thrusts. The look on her face was even more disconcerting: head thrown back, mouth slightly agape, eyes closed. I rolled out from under her and asked, “Hey that’s not really what I look like, is it?” “I dunno,” she replied. “Sort of. Yeah, I guess so.” “Oh my god,” I said. “Why on earth would you ever want to have sex with me?” “Well,” she said, “You’re really sexy, honey. You love me and I love you and I love making love with you. Damn baby, you’re my Daddy-O.” I thought about it for a second and then pulled her back on top of me.

It turned out to be a very educational evening.

Fuck you God, I've been sick for the past three days. This website is WAY COOLER than you are.

"And they blessed Rebekah, and said unto her: 'Our sister, be thou the mother of thousands of ten thousands, and let thy seed possess the gate of those that hate them.'" Genesis 24:60

An intellectual is someone who says a simple thing in a difficult way.

An artist is someone who says a difficult thing in a simple way.

That's what Charles Bukowski had to say.

Here's what I say:

I hate music. I hate sex.

I don't know if I'm an artist, an intellectual, or neither.

This fucking blog is almost turning out to be more trouble than it's worth.

I'm alienating everyone in my life who I hold dear.

I realized that the only two entries concerning my girlfriend are about petty fights we had and now I sorta feel like a dick for even mentioning them. She's pretty and I love her and 99% of the time we have a lot of fun together. Soon enough I'll post the pictures to prove it.

My mom visited the site yesterday and as a result I now have a mental picture of her reading the words "ANAL SEX".

Aaron, my friend, my bass player, the best musician I've ever known, is hurt because I scolded him for making fun of my whiny posts

And I get badly typed emails from Dominic:

From: "Dominic Piscopo"
To: questions@ihatedirtbike.com
Subject: Russian Snakes!
Date: Wed, 06 Feb 2002 23:55:07

Dear Big Nosed Fakers,

I find your page stimulating in a high fiber rectal projectile sort of
way. You make me glad that I still can look forward to the pleasure of death
to ease the pain of knowing you all on not only a professional but social
level. I am suing your band for reparations regarding the song "Justice
for the Unjust" which is based on my own composition and is much better
when played by me. One day you will see that in the real world people don't
think the way you do Tom. I wan't five dawellers, or else. I will ruin you
all. I will be heard!

Thank you for fucking my life up,
Dominic Angus Piscopo

Thank God for the auto-response.

---

I'd like to take a moment and thank Tom for his effort to add this weblog to our home page. Tom does a lot of hard work for the band. He writes the songs, updates the web page, and organizes our band practices. I love you Tom. Thank you for all of your efforts to make dirtbike the next Beatles.

More Email hijinx or Dear Blasphemer

Every once in a while someone emails the Dirtbike website. More often than not I send them an "automated" response:

Dear Sir or Madam:

Thank you for your recent correspondence with Dirtbike! Due however to the voluminous amount of mail
each of the members receives they are unable to answer your letter. Keep on buying!

Thomas Amans
Production Correspondent
Dirtbike Affairs International


One time Ray made the mistake of sending me an email via the website, so of course I sent him the above response. Here's what happened afterwards.

--- Ray Holmes
wrote:

Dear Automated Response:

Take your apologies and shove them up your ass. I am a human being and therefore should be treated like a God. If you don't start making UPS deliver my 2nd Day Air packages in two days, I'm going to kill you and everyone like you. Asshole.

Raymond L.Holmes III
Public Relations
Dirtbike Affairs International


-----Original Message-----
From: tom amans
Sent: Saturday, January 27, 2001 10:55 AM
To: Ray Holmes
Subject: RE: Dirtbike

Dear Mr Holmes:

It is my sad to regret to inform you that due to your unprecedented insolence you will no longer receive any packages, ever. Keep on buying! (ass)

Thomas Amans
Automated Retaliation
Dirtbike Affairs International


--- Ray Holmes wrote:

Deer Mr. Amahns:

I am appalled that you would have the Unmitigated Audacity to call Me insolent. The very statement is insolent in itself. I am regurgitated by the sustenance of your whore. Now that you have annoyed Me, I will single handedly destroy Dirtbike.

Your dreams are My toys.

Raymond L. Holmes III
Batterie (Percussion and Members)
Dirtbike Affairs International


-----Original Message-----
From: tom amans
Sent: Tuesday, January 30, 2001 2:10 PM
To: Ray Holmes
Subject: RE: Dirtbike

Dear Raymus:

As usual, your petty insults have had no effect whatsoever upon my golden ego. Sticks and stones may break my bones, Mr. Holmes, but you are merely a lump of shit sliding off of my teflon hide. Mispronouncing my surname is another matter entirely. You leave me with no choice but to insert my whore into your nostrils until such time that I see fit to remove it. You have 2 hours. Good day.

Thomas Edward Amans
Automated Sinusoidal Retaliation
Dirtbike Affairs International


--- Ray Holmes wrote:

Mr. Fuck-butt:

As usual, your petty attempt to appear unscathed by my beautifully timed, well deserved insults has failed. Deep down inside it is quite obvious that you are in emotional turmoil; your soul is being ripped apart by he truth that has been so blatantly exposed to it. As for the mispronunciation of your surname, anyone with a name that stupid deserves to be killed (or have their name mispronounced.) I bequeath unto you the bullshit that you have so rudely slung my way, thereby soiling the very nature of my altruism. Go to Hell, Amans.

Raymond L. Holmes III
Dangerously Devilish Defamation Director
Dirtbike Affairs International


-----Original Message-----
From: tom amans
Sent: Tuesday, February 06, 2001 9:03 PM
To: Ray Holmes
Subject: RE: Dirtbike

Mr. Asslicking Cuntboy:

Wherein the course of human events it is becomes evident that all attempts at peaceful coercion have been rendered ineffectual, it becomes the sacred duty of all self-respecting individuals to smite those who should be coerced into gracious servitude. I am hereby announcing a hostile take over of all Ray Holmes controlled departments and their affliated subsidiaries.

Fuck you,

Thomas Edward Amans II
Super Duper Cool Guy Gonna Kick Your Ass Oh Yeah
Dirtbike Affairs International


--- Ray Holmes wrote:

Dear Ass-Head-Wookie-Nose:

Peaceful coersion my ass. You're one of the most barbaric idiots I know. I would be afraid of your plan to take over all Dirtbike affairs, however you already do everything. And that's the way it should be, bitch. Get me a beer and send you girlfriend over to my house. Let her have a taste of what real lovin' is.

Raymond L. Holmes III
Memberus Giganticus
Dirtbike Affairs International


-----Original Message-----
From: tom amans
Sent: Tuesday, February 13, 2001 1:44 PM
To: Ray Holmes
Subject: RE: Dirtbike

Dear Penus Insignificus:

I would concede and give in to your demands however you, like my girlfriend, have no house of your own. I could send her over to your "benefactor's" place of residence; she is, however, much too busy paying her "rent" on a nightly basis to be concerned with such
miniscule affairs. Please die.

Thomas Edward Amans II
Johnsonus Biggerus Than Yoursest
Dirtbike Affairs International


Dear Blasphemer:

The Lord shall smiteth thee, and rain fire down upon thee, and shoot holes in thy soul with a really big pellet gun. Thou hast rejected Him and thou shalt feel His wrath. His big, hairy, salty, mealy wrath. O' wretched non-believer, thou hast sealed thine own miserable fate. There is room for the Devil in thy heart.

Rev. Raymond L. Holmes III
The Lord's Humble Servant
Dirtbike Affairs Universal

Email excerpt:

-----Original Message-----
From: Tom Amans
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 4:25 PM
To: 'Cohen, Aaron'
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


i have rage practice 3 times this week.

-----Original Message-----
From: Cohen, Aaron
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 4:50 PM
To: Tom Amans
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


damn!

-----Original Message-----
From: Tom Amans
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 4:50 PM
To: 'Cohen, Aaron'
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


we're gonna kick ass. you there on the 20th?

-----Original Message-----
From: Cohen, Aaron
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 4:56 PM
To: Tom Amans
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


sure, that's a wednesday, right?

-----Original Message-----
From: Tom Amans
Sent: Monday, February 04, 2002 4:57 PM
To: 'Cohen, Aaron'
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


si senor.

-----Original Message-----
From: Cohen, Aaron
Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2002 8:54 AM
To: Tom Amans
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


I can't. That's Dawson's Creek night

-----Original Message-----
From: Tom Amans
Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2002 9:22 AM
To: 'Cohen, Aaron'
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either


lousy muthafuckin greasy whore assface breath lick...

-----Original Message-----
From: Cohen, Aaron
Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2002 9:37 AM
To: Tom Amans
Subject: RE: I don't understand it either

I'm just kidding, I'm there

---

Look Tom, you're gonna fail regardless of whether or not you spread yourself thin. You need to remember that no one cares about your stupid life except us, your "friends" whom you never have time for. Just remember, you will always be a failure compared to me. You will never be as happy as me, even if by some fluke you did manage to earn more money than me, because you are neurotic and narcissistic. And just in case you're not Tom and you're the only other person on earth who cares about this stupid blogger that Tom spent countless hours to put on our website, Tom has nothing better to do with his life but to give me his money. Remember that, regardless what he may say in response to this post.

Tonight I have practice with the Rage Against the Machine cover band. We're practicing three times a week until our first gig on the 20th. I also have two Dirtbike practices and school on Thursday nights, in addition to forty hours of work every week and guitar lessons on the weekend. I wonder if I spread myself thin so I don't feel like a failure when I fall short of all my individual objectives.

---

I was supposed to meet the woman at my apartment for lunch. I get an hour long break and it takes me twenty minutes to get home. I called her before I left to see where she was and she said she'd be there at one. She wasn't. She has my key to the front door so I ended up sitting outside for almost exactly twenty minutes. When she got there I didn't say much. I grabbed a few things out of the fridge and kissed her goodbye. She said she was sorry, that she would make it up to me, that we should talk about it later.

Oh no, honey. That time has passed. Words are quite incapable of repairing of this breach. I'm afraid the situation has escalated far beyond verbal reproach; now, it's all about ANAL SEX.

Extreme exhaustion set in sometime around Wednesday evening.

Had a fight with the woman this afternoon.

Not a single Dirtbike gig on the horizon.

After work I'm gonna go home and listen to some gu-qin music.