Non Fiction – Page 13

Life Imitates Art as Art Imitates Life part 2: Mr. Brainwash, Banksy, and Authentic Art

For those of you just tuning in this is part two of a piece I’m writing expressing my feelings on the subject of Actual Artist with Original ideas/concepts versus Greedy Talentless Lame Copy Cat Hacks. It goes without saying that wherever their is a Successful Artist with Original Ideas and Creative Concepts there will be a small army of wannabe’s and knock off’s trying to make money from SOMEONE ELSES Intellectual Property.

I have nothing but respect for Original Artists, and Their work even if I personally don’t like it. I believe in giving credit whenever and wherever its due.

Now for the talentless twats that swarm around Original Artists leeching off Their Creativity by either riding on their coat tails, jumping on the TREND(Y) Bandwagon or most of all their trying to Capitalize in any way they can out/off of it. They’re either trying to emulate and imitate the original idea and Art. Either that or Their trying Steal it some how for personal profit in a Pompously Presumptuous Gallery (to a bunch of Wealthy Elite Art Collecting ASSHOLES) or hawk it Online like some sort of Digital Asshole.

My point/argument continues here after stating in the prior post that Tesla was a Lone Genius, and Edison was a Con artist who got famous of his employee’s ideas/inventions. That was the History Portion, And now for the repeating part.

(Just a reminder I am recounting/retelling a EXTREMELY CONDENSED VERSION to save time by sticking as close as I can to my point. I fully encourage Reader’s to watch the Documentary Film “Exist Through The Gift Shop” which provides an in-depth and detailed look at all of the information on the subject of the personal history between Mr. Brainwash and Banksy. I would also at this time like to also recommend the Documentary “Banksy Does New York” for a most informative look into His Work and Personal Philosophies) Bottomline I’m not a Biographer.

Its truly have to give an immense deal of credit to Banksy who got his start on the Street of London, who’s work now has appeared on the streets of various countries around the globe, who’s work has been hang shied by Wealthy Gallery Owners and the like, and the Unscrupulous acquisitions of pieces of Banksy’s Artwork stolen strait off of the streets themselves, has had his work Valued from Hundreds of Thousands to a Million Plus, and yet no one knows anything personal details about Him. Banksy has become notorious for vehemently protecting his true Identity and to His credit its worked amazingly, in fact its worked perfectly. This is all anyone knows of Banksy in the Public Forum that He is Male, White, From England, and is the biggest name in Street Art/ Graffiti the world has know at this point.

Yet the popular misconception is because Banksy’s art sells for such massive amounts of money that he is insanely rich and has tons of cash coming in on a daily basis. A few reason for this are He has to compensate His Team comprised only of the most trusted inner circle, Pay out a exorbitant amount of money in the quest to stay Anonymous, Travel, Supplies, He donates a good bit of money from selling some of his work to Charities (such as House The Homeless in NYC for example), and the simple fact that His work that is stolen off the Streets, and sold in High End Art Galleries which Banksy has absolutely nothing to do with thus he doesn’t make a dime. Banksy has stated his Art is for Everyone to enjoy and harshly condemned those who seek to confiscate his work and sell it in a high end gallery for personal profit. In fact Banksy shuns the Classic Art world for being more about being pretentious than about the actual Art.

Now while like Tesla(who had several assistants through out his career) Banksy has come to rely on the help of a few other people to help achieve his Artistic Goals/Ideas/Artistic Concepts are Banksy’s and Banksy’s alone. Point being Banksy’s crew work WITH HIM, NOT FOR HIM.

Bansky is known for the Social/Politically driven Art Work that provokes deeper thought when it comes to social ills or political plight. His work can be ironic, mocking, Anti-Authoritarian, but its all meant to promote understanding and peace among all of Humanity. His unofficial mascot seems to be the Rat which reappears frequently in Banksy’s Art. Later on in his career Banksy started to produce Art Installations (such as a blissful paradise housed in a dirty beat up Box Truck that drives around stopping periodically, and Video Pieces. Banksy has embraced Social Media/ Internet where he has a very forward, direct, and honest website (Bnaksy also has a Instagram and Twitter accounts. Banksy is not just Original he’s insanely intelligent, beyond talented, Humble, Secretive, and Though Provoking Artist.

Meanwhile as far as Mr. Brainwash is concerned…….

I guess for sake of argument I’ll start at the beginning. Before He became Mr. Brainwash He was a regular guy named Thierry (Pronounced Terry) Guetta who had a serious camera OBC. Simply Thierry’s Mother died when he was 7, and this dramatic tragedy created Thierry’s life long obsession of Video Taping every single waking moment.

Thierry’s cousin was an up and coming Graffiti Artist in the Blossoming new world of Street Art who goes by Space Invader. Thierry started to follow and film Space Invader everywhere documenting his work along the way. Thierry ended up utterly in love with the up and coming graffiti Artists, and started following, assisting, and Filming them constantly.

In a once in a life time chance ( I mean its like winning the Lottery and then being struck by lighting.) Thierry’s cousin was hosting non other than the infamous Banksy who had already made a name for Himself. Thierry was allowed into Banksy’s inner circle even visiting the Illusive Artists Studio (Banksy’s Team found it odd and were very weary of Theirry). Thierry started going out at night with Banksy acting as a look out or extra pair of hands as Banksy put up new work.

A little later on the various Graffiti Artist drew Thierry’s non stop filming of them and their activities into question. The question was why the fuck was Thierry filming Them in the first place? Thierry had had NO PLAN for the endless hours of footage he had shot, and currently was shooting. So being rather put on the spot Thierry announced He was filming because he was making a Documentary on The Various Artists, and the birth of the Street Art fascination that was inadvertently legitimizing Graffiti as in fact Art.

Now thats all good and fine its what ended up happening next that pisses me off.

Banksy finally called Thierry out, and told him now was the time to release His Documentay because it was the essential backstory to the newly dubbed Street Art World. Thierry went to work sifting through countless bins of material as he worked feverishly to complete his so called Documentary. The Documentary was anything but. It was 90 minutes of seizure inducing, eye bleeding bullshit. It was just random images thrown together in a Manic Manner so it appeared like a 90 minute music video that escaped from MTV in the 1980’s and went absolutely insane.

Seeing the Documentary was a complete and utter failure Banksy formulated a plan to salvage the project. As Theirry idolized Banksy to the umpteenth degree Banksy got Thierry to let him borrow all of his footage. Banksy then recommended that Thierry head home, create some Art, and perhaps have a little show. Thierry took this to heart as an official mission assigned Him personally by His Idol Banksy.

Now while wasting time, content, and miles of Video Tape is a real shitty thing, and fucking up a project happens so while I’m pissed at this point in the story, the following part is what truly Enrages Me to NO END.

Thierry went home and the first fucking thing he does is rent a MASSIVE 5 story fucking warehouse for his upcoming show. Then Thierry (who accept for a few sporadic pieces (a picture of Him holding a camera) had never been an actual Graffiti Artist. Thierry then hires a legion of Millennial Graphic Artists to crank out REALLY CLICHE CRAP thats BLATANTLY a LAME attempt to IMITATE Banksy. Thierry has NO ACTUAL ARTISTIC CREATIVITY, TALENT OR SKILL.

Then Thierry gave him self the Moniker of Mr. Brainwash, and started to promote Himself and His upcoming show as if He was a legitimate long time, well know, and respected Graffiti Artist who was friends with all the Other now Big Name Graffiti Artists, and that He had the distinct honor in personally knowing Banksy. He used Banksy and Other Big Artists to shamelessly Self Promote Himself FALSELY.

At this point Graffiti had been rebranded as Street Art as it had become popular in the Allegedly Fine Art World. And because of its new found trendiness provided the key to Thierry’s unwarranted success. Every Hipster, Trend Chaser, Pretentious Assholes, Fine Art Dealer, and Exclusive Art Gallery Owner wanted a piece of the Street Art Pie because by now Banksy Works had sold for up to and over a million dollars (which only serves to encourage unscrupulous Thieves) BOTTOM LINE Every Sucker and Presumptuous Asshole bought Thierry’s bullshit credentials and so called Street Credit hook, line, and fucking sinker.

In the end Thierry filled the gigantic rented warehouse with tons of Pathetic Graffiti Knock Off Bullshit Pieces conceived and done by one of his HIRED underlings, and presented them all as His own. Thierry fit right into the fake ass kissing world of Fine Art, Thierry could bullshit his ass off as Elitist Idiots ate it up ravenously like rabid Lemmings.

THE POINT OF THIS 2 PART POST is as follows.

There Unintelligent and Untalented ASSHOLES like Thomas Edison and Thierry aka Mr. Brainwash in the World that like so many other Con Artists STEAL other’s Intellectual Property, and then have the balls to claim it as Their own. THAT IS HORSE SHIT. Those people are fucking bottom dwelling leeches that act like Brainless Parasites feeding off Other’s Originality for their own fame/fortune.

Fuck Trends, Fuck Hipsters, Fuck Art Thieves, Fuck High End Art Galleries, Fuck Fine Art Dealers, Fuck Fakes, Fuck Wannabes, Fuck Mr. Brainwash, Fuck Edison, Fuck Scam Artists, Fuck Con Men, Fuck Unoriginality, Fuck Cliches, and Fuck the Fine Art Assholes.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Life Imitates Art as Art Imitates Life Part 1: Tesla, Edison, and Electricity

I decided to write this post because it gave me a chance to address to issues I have issue with per say. While I truly love and respect original talent/material equally despise Trendy Band Wagon Jumpers, those who have no talent of their own so they rip off those they want to emulate from the News/Social Media. Not only do they steal ideas/concepts they have the fucking balls to strut around patting themselves on the fucking back constantly. These talentless hacks parade around congratulating themselves for producing (and cashing in on because its money/fame these self proclaimed artists are really interested in, the art comes second with these ignorant idiots) shitty wannabe knock offs.

Now on this topic I have 2 separate ( but similar as you will see) issues I want to address so this will be a 2 Part Post.

The First one being Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla on the subject of Electricity (its not what you think nor would expect, but I digress).

The Second one being Mr. Brainwash/Thierry Guetta and Banksy/ Identity Unknown on the subject of Street Art Then and Now.

Starting with good old Tommy Edison and Nikola Tesla I must get a few things strait. This is NOT Biographical or a History Lesson. I’m not going to play the good old pissing contest contending the accomplishments or criticisms of each man. I will most definitely not be using this post to indulge the Nerdpocalyptic argument that rages on through the ages in addition to today on who had the better electrical discovery Edison’s DC Current or Tesla’s AC Current. I am not an inventor, scientist nor expert so unlike most fucking people I’m not going to pretend that I know when in reality I don’t.

What I think is utter Horseshit is this. While Edison tooled around with DC Currents and Tesla with AC Currents they’re philosophies on how the benefits of harnessing electricity would affect the American Public. Tesla’s belief was quite simple by harnessing electricity he would create a network that would provide electricity to every home, business, and anywhere it would benefit his fellow man (Example Street Lights, Traffic Lights, Signs, recharging devices etc.) FOR ABSOLUTELY FREE.

The last point is this Tesla was a one man show. True while Tesla had a few assistants through out the years they were nothing more than helping hands in helping Tesla with experiments ALL of the ideas/concepts/beliefs where sold those of Tesla himself. The best comparison I can provide is to the much more recent musician Trent Reznor. Reznor writes all of his “Bands”(Nine Inch Nails or NIN for short) music and lyrics as well as playing all the instruments Himself. When Reznor heads out on tour he hires a back up band because obviously He can’t play live shows all by himself.

Meanwhile as for Thomas Edison….

Edison allegedly invented the light bulb (a fact refuted by the Historians of today who say Edison’s claim is nothing but bravado and bullshit). Now some of our Readers may be confused (or wondering what the point is) as Edison is documented in the Historical Records of Humanity as just that the inventor of the light bulb so? The answer is also my point. Edison HIRED nothing short of an Army of Young Inventors in what were referred to as “Invention Factories” which he had several of in America and in Europe. These Invention Factories where supposed to nurture the Young Inventors and allow them a place to work and thrive a true platform for knowledge.In reality if any of Edison’s EMPLOYEES (because lets face it thats what the were) had a brilliant Idea or Invention Edison would take the idea, and then CLAIM CREDIT FOR IT much like the Light Bulb. The whole fucking set up was a scam set up by Edison to con Young Inventors to benefit his own career. Thats a serious Dick Move.

Now back to the Light Bulb. After claiming to have created the Light Bulb quickly established Edison General Electric which was the first move to Monetize Electricity as a Consumer Commodity. Time passes and a few starter Electric companies throw their hats into the ring for the new and viable Electricity Market. In just 2 short years in 1892 Edison consolidated all of his assorted businesses, and then Merged his consolidated companies with his number one Competitor to form GENERAL ELECTRIC.

The Bottom Line is this 1. Edison was a Hack who stole inventions/Ideas from weak, vulnerable, and Nieve Young Inventors. 2. Overtime you open your Electric Bill and exclaim “Are you serious?!” or ‘What the FUCK?!!!” you can thank Thomas Edison for creating the ELECTRIC BILL when Tesla would have provided the same service(s) TOTALLY FREE.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

The Rule of 3 and How It Used to Be

What the fuck killed customer service I ask you?! It was a sudden death by any means, but a long lingering demise whose death rattle has yet to shake the bed. Its bad enough that now a days they have those goddamn Automated Messages calling to try and sell me shit. Back in the day at least I had some satisfaction at being able to tell an actual human to fuck off. Now what am I supposed to do? Insult the fucking thing by telling it it’s mother is a Tape Recorder that eats 8 track ass? Ok enough of that tangent now back to the point.

When I was growing up a great thing was there was NO Automated Anything, and that includes when one had to call Customer Service for assistance. Today you have to deal with an Automated System that doesn’t understand what your saying, wastes 20 minutes of your time essentially going “I Don’t Understand” until your fucking insane, and then you get the option to speak to a living human being. Automation Menu’s aren’t the only change to Customer Service by a long shot.

Not only did I not have to deal with Automation Menus when I was younger, but the actual people I talked to were a far cry from the shit you have to deal with today. Back then the Customer Service Representatives damn well knew what Customer Service was. Look granted being in the Customer Service field fucking sucks big time because you have to spend 8 hours listing to people bitch and complain (or worse like curse you out or become insulting), but the fact is there are people who could and would do just that God bless them.

Its no secret that no matter what fucking job you have Cardiologist to Janitor at some point your going to have to Eat Shit (Its the same in one’s personal life as well). Eating Shit is an unavoidable part of Life, theres nothing you can do about it but o just accept it and go on living for Christ’s Sake. I mean why do you think the saying “Eat Shit” is woven into our modern-day lexicon to begin with (there is also the prevalent saying “Shit Happens” as well don’t forget) It could be argued at this point in time that the phrase Eat Shit is a Lingual Icon. I know this post as stayed a bit here and there, but Sit Happens and if you don’t dig that then Eat Shit.

Now back to the point…..

For all those tuning in late or just skimming this post I’m writing about the difference between Old School Customer Service Vs. The Bullshit Customer Service of Today. As I mentioned at the beginning the first abomination is the Automated System which accomplishes nothing but wasting 20 to 30 minutes of your time as it simultaneously frustrating the Caller to the point of actual insanity. Then once the Caller has run the complete Automated Gauntlet they have the ability to talk to a living person.

The First Customer Service Rep. sounds like fucking Eeyorre the clinically depressed Donkey from Winnie the Pooh. I can picture the fuckers sitting slouched down inter seats, shoulders hunched over, eyes half open staring vacantly at a Computer Screen, just waiting to fucking die right there at work no less. A Caller then has to battle this emotionless and utterly unhelpful Pion’s (who’s more than likely making a noose out of their headset chord to hang themselves from the Florescent Soul Sucking office lights) monotone malarkey before the consent to allowing the Caller to speak to an alternate human being.

The Second Customer Service Rep. is some asshole who sounds like he’s bored out of his fucking mind, despises their job, and seems annoyed that the caller is bothering them. The Caller now must combat this Slacker Mentality while getting next to no where to the point The Caller feels as though they are just torturing themselves, and wonder is this shit worth it?!! If the Caller can get past this Snarky, Snide, and Often rather Rude individual asshole The Caller can advance to the next Customer Rep.

The Third Customer Rep turns out to be a throw back to the Golden Age of Customer Service. These Rep.’s are polite and professional, and this makes them extremely helpful as they can usually solve most problems rather quickly. If there is a larger issue at hand these Rep.’s will stay on the phone doing anything and everything they can until the problem is resolved. And even in the few rarer cases if after doing all they possible can to actually help a Caller they will leave you with a recommendation on how to further proceed because they really do want to help. The Rep.’s are the true blue backbone of the dying Customer Service Field, and Bless these Blissful Beings to the Four Corner’s of the Earth.

My final point is this the Companies that hire the first two types of Customer Service Reps to fucking begin with. Its enough bullshit to endure the Automated Assault, but then to follow it with yet another 2 shit shows. This is why I’m fucking sick of Big Companies/Corporations whining and crying like spoiled brats that there is no more Employee or Customer Loyalty. If you want more motherfucking money PROVIDE BETTER FUCKING CUSTOMER SERVICE, Because Without Customer’s Your No Longer a Business Man Your An UNEMPLOYED ASSHOLE.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

The Tale of The Hellacious Hospital

I was 13 years old and it was the beginning of Summer Vacation. The first 2 weeks went splendidly as all I did was fuck off with friends all day, and cause minor trouble as our Town was boring as shit. Then one random morning I woke up with what felt like the worst cramp of my life in my lower left side. In addition I was nauseous as all get out as the pain increased to the point I walked virtually bent over at the waist. After a couple of days of this my Parents took me to our family Doctor. It took him less than 30 seconds to double check his almost instant diagnosis, and then informed us it was Appendicitis that would require immediate treatment. So instead of heading off to camp the next day I headed off the the local Hospital.

Now Appendicitis (along with Tonsillitis) are the two easiest fucking things not only for a Doctor to Diagnose its equally as easy for a Surgeon to remedy through simple Surgery. As one might imagine it plays out as your sick, you go to doctor, doctor makes his/her diagnosis, go strait to the nearest Hospital, get Admitted, and then immediate Surgery. This is specially important for Appendicitis as the longer it goes untreated the higher the risk it could rupture causing Secondary Infection(s) a real bitch.

Well thats not quite how it went with me thats for fucking sure. The first part went normally until I arrived at the Hospital as shit went down hill from there rather quickly. Now once I was admitted in stead of preforming the needed immediate (not quite an emergency but pretty damn close) Surgery they did the exact opposite they waited. They waited for the sole fucking reason of using me as a case example for the small Army of Interns. The next 36 or so hours Doctors came in and poked and prodded the shit out of me in-between marching in groups of 6-10 Medical Students/Interns?Residents.

Nothing like lying in the Hospital as your Summer Vacation rots away, but to be treated like a fucking Lab Animal was the worst of it all. Doctor’s are such disconnected Cunts, they really are. Doctor’s have no what they call Bedside Manner, and Bedside Manner translates to Talking/Treating the Patient like a human not a project. So all these Medical Motherfucker’s keep parading in apparently whenever the fuck they felt like it.

Finally they preformed the Surgery or Appendectomy, and shit went back to normal as far as protocol was concerned. I hung out post Opp for a day or so and the Hospital Released Me. Once again I settled into a regular Summer Routine until one day I woke up sick as a dog. I a fever, Cold Sweats, Nausa, Diarrhea, No Appetite, and all that Super fucking Flu symptomatic shit. Again after several days it became apparent this wasn’t a cold, flu or food poisoning and I went back to the Doctor. He couldn’t tell us the root cause, but he did strongly advise taking me back to the Hospital and my parents did.

Long story Shorter I was readmitted, examined, and tested. The Doctor’s came to the conclusion that (and this is the only fucking way we found out this even happened as in They never said shit about it) because my Appendix had in fact Burst that there were 2 pockets of Infectious Puss lingering around the Surgical site like two Sepsis Clouds. The Doctor’s next task was to locate the pockets of infection, and then administer proper treatment due on location alone.

Long story shorter I had to go through 2 additional Surgical Procedures to actually drain the infections. Now of these 2 Procedures I’m only going to take the time to address is the first of the two. This is how it all went down. One of the Diagnostic Tests was an MRI which located the pockets of infection in the first place. Now based on the MRI Results the Doctor’s opted to preform this fucked up little maneuver. This one must remember was in the days LONG before Twilight Anesthesia was even considered. In spite of lacking the current anesthetic options of today came over to me (I’m shirtless and still laying prone on the MRI Machine arms stretched above head) and inform me their going to attempt to drain one of the pockets of infection right then and there. Their reasoning was that it was very close to “the skin” if by that you mean under all 5 layers of skin and then the subsequent muscle. They then I shit you not hit me with 17-21 shots of Novocaine in my abdomen as Anesthetic.

Then this little feeble wobble of a man came out of the control room and over to me. This guy looking like a goddamn 5th grade Science teacher mustache, Bowtie, and all. This douche informs me that he is going to take a very thin needle (about 2 feet long I shit you not) and then jam it into my abdomen. From there he is going to manual suck out the puss and shit with a large syringe attached to the other end of the motherfucking needle.

Things didn’t start well as the Fat Fuck stabbed me and fucking missed the Soft Ball sized pocket of infection in spite of being able to see exactly where the fuck it was. Once we withdrew the needle he had to insure there was no internal bleeding by pushing down with all his might (not to mention body weight) on the injection site. He then manages to finally after over a fucking hour of this horse shit torture got the job essentially done. To this day if I ever see this Guy on the street I’m going to stab him repeatedly in his fucking fat little face with a rusty Screw Driver, Just Saying.

With the pockets of infection drained I spent a few more days on intravenous Antibiotics, and then sent on my way once again. Summer was back on track for the next 3 weeks anyway. See this is where shit gets really weird. I woke up one day exhibiting the exact same symptoms of Appendicitis though my Appendix for all incentive purposes had been Surgically removed over a month ago at this point. Needless to say I was off to and readmitted to the Hospital. I honestly have no fucking clue why my parents would take me back to that Shithole Hospital for a 3rd time, but I digress under protest.

Long story shorter the Doctor’s spent days subjecting me to what turned out to be every test in the fucking book to No Avail. The Doctor’s were perplexed as they to couldn’t figure out how a surgically removed Appendix could affect someone with a classic example of Appendicitis. After toiling away with machines and men in the Lab they were no closer to finding the reason. Exasperated and exhausted the Doctor’s came to talk to us about what the fuck to do. The Doctor’s started by stating the now obvious that regardless of all the fucking tests, everything for all intensive purposes looked absolutely normal.

This left the Doctors with only one last option and that was to do an Exploratory. See Exploratory Surgery sounds all nice and fucking official with a hint of NASA to it, but here is what Exploratory Surgery is in Laymen’s terms. Exploratory Surgery means going more Medieval in Medical Methods. That is the Doctor’s can’t figure out why your sick so they actually cut you open, and literally poke around like a car mechanic under the hood of a car. Thats it, they slice you open to actually see if they can find shit out first hand since the million dollar machines produced shit as far as results.

What they found was truly intriguing. Since the Scumbags waited so long before operations that my Appendix had ruptured, and ruptured spectacularly (meaning huge amount of infectious collateral damage) that we all knew already. The Doctors went on to explain that the middle of my Appendix blew the fuck up when the Appendix ruptured, and when the Surgeon went in initially he removed the base or bottom part of the affected Appendix. Now what no one could have foreseen the Tip of the Infected Appendix broke off with a independent blood supply (not sure to this day exactly what the hell that means), and then slid down by my right Kidney. Once it reached my right Kidney it proceeded to hug up against it so tightly that on tests it just appeared to be part of the Kidney’s natural exterior.

The odd thing (at the time it didn’t compute with my parents) was my Parents were approached several times by various Doctors not associated with my case reassuring them the Hospital handled my case fine, and all this other shit was unavoidable. What that says to me is “We fucked up bad, but we don’t want to get the shit sued out of us so we’re backpedaling to save our asses with False Reassurances.

Any who for all the bullshit, time, and consequent suffering I did achieve one thing note worthy. On the Medical History for said Hospital I’m on the Books as the only Patient to have His Appendix out Twice.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

The Gas Station Ganja Guy

Back when I was growing up in a shitty little town (in an even shittier little state) there was a Hess Gas Station that I visited quite frequently. Out of all of the usual Gas Stations Hess always had the cheapest Gas in town hands down. Are there even Hess Stations anymore? No Really I can’t remember for the life of Me when the last time I saw a Hess Station. I know the Christmas Hess Truck is still some sort of tradition deal, BUT you don’t need Gas Stations to manufacture a Toy Truck once a year.

Now I lived in one of those states that thinks its Residents are too stupid to know how to pump their own gas. There was this Hess Gas Station Attendant that worked at there that went by the name Lazlo. Lazlo was a young white guy with long black hair (a couple years older than Me) with the classic slacker mentality.Lazlo was an extremely nice guy who always seemed to be smiling in a “Cat That Ate The Canary” type manner like a mischievous child. I have no idea where Lazlo came from so to speak as I have said I grew up in a small ass town so everybody pretty much knew everybody else if they liked it or not. All anyone basically knew was his name and that he worked at Hess. Nobody seemed to know any other details about Lazlo no last name, no actual age, school he went to, if he had siblings, where he lived etc.

One fine Summers day The Arminian and I picked Spacedog up, and We hit up Hess since I needed gas and Hess was located just a round the corner from Spacedog’s. When We pulled in and up to the pump We saw Lazlo coming out of the office towards us at a vigorous clip with His trademark sly smile. We got out of the car as We usually did when Lazlo was working because he was a cool guy to just hang out and shoot the shit with. I walked around to the back of the car where Lazlo was standing next to the car beside the gas pump as it whirred and thumped gallon after gallon into My so old its almost legit “Classic” first car.

It was then that for the first (and only) time Lazlo asked Me if I could score him some Weed, and I told Him sure it be no problem. I then asked Him what amount was he looking for in particular, and Lazlo reached up grabbed His Hess employee jacket which was apparently being used to conceal something. He turned around and placed his jacket on the trunk of my car and opened it as he answered My previous question by answering this much. I looked down and saw the biggest fucking bag of buds that I had ever seen put to that point in My life, if I had to guess it was a very generous QP (quarter pound) or perhaps a QP and a half (6 Ounces total). Now like I said this was more Marijuana then I was accustom too as the most I had ever dealt with was an Ounce before.

I looked back up at Lazlo who was grinning from ear to ear utterly delighted that his surprise had worked so well. I just stood there in a state of awe until Lazlo told Us to come by later in the evening and He’d smoke us out so obviously We said hells yes. It was around 8 pm or so once We returned to the Hess Station to take Lazlo up on his offer. Lazlo again came out to meet us, instructed us where to park, and then We followed Him into the Hess Station. There was a small area with racks of oil, air freshners, AntiFreeze, wind shield wiper fluid, and other auto odds and ends with a cash register that had Maps of the State on the counter next to it. We walked back into the Office which was a 10″ by 8″ room that housed a beat 1970’s office desk, crappy old office chair, phone, and a couple of run down filing cabinets that looked as if they had been thrown down a flight of stairs. There wasn’t a Computer because they hadn’t become the omnipresent force that they have become over the last 20 some years.

Lazlo plopped himself in the chair behind the desk and brought out the big bag of buds, and started packing a fat ass Dime Bag into a corn cob pipe (Yes a strait out of fucking Tom Sawyer and shit), and as rather confused by this as We were nobody called attention to or questioned it We just went with it. The 4 of us smoked continuously for over an hour, We hot boxed the absolute holy hell out of that office. The Smoke hung thick in the air as We had to duck our heads and squint to see one another. At last We said fair well to Lazlo and thank you for the generous smoking session as We piled into My car. Lazlo said to come back and see Him again and We drove off into the night words home.

We never saw Lazlo again after that night. When We did return to the Hess station a few days later We asked the Attendant working When Lazlo would be working, and he said Lazlo had been taken off the schedule but didn’t know anything beyond that. Obviously in all likelihood Lazlo got fucking fired for smoking pot at work in the Boss’s office. I like to think though that Lazlo returned to the Parallel Dimension from whence he came. That or that He sat in the office for the rest of that fateful night and smoked Himself out of existence all together.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober

Senior Citizens & The Sex Shop Showdown

One Day I was hanging out with my dear friend The Armenian at his Grandmother’s house drinking Gin and Tonics of all fucking things. For the record I hate Gin, and think the only people on Earth who should drink it are The British Elderly. My personal feelings aside Gin was all We could steal from My Mother’s Liquor Cabinet the previous night.

Once We were dead drunk We wondered around and came upon a Bus Stop so We got on the next Bus that came without regard to where it was actually going. 10 minutes or so later We found out that it went to the local Mall. This was of course AFTER We had gotten OFF the Bus. We stumbled around trying to find a way to get the fuck away from the Mall when We came across a couple of Girls named Ryder and Debs (Short for Debra) sitting outside a Mall exit. They happened to live in the neighboring town of Addison which was cool because We were sick of the girls in our town. We struck up a conversation, and short story short We became friends with some romantic relationship shit along the way.

It was a slow Sunday when The Armenian and I were doing a lot of nothing when We decided to head over to Addison to do a lot of more nothing with Ryder and Debs. We drove over and picked up Ryder and Debs and proceeded to drive around aimlessly smoking pot and talking shit. This was our favorite time killing pastime as our towns were small and full of Assholes.

Once We succumbed to the so called “Munchies” We stopped at a Local Diner called The Crystal Diner on Route 99. Now Route 99 was the main highway and commercial strip that ran through Addison. It housed everything from Grocery Stores, Fast Food Restaurants, bowling ally, a 2 screen movie theater, a Dunkin Donuts, Clothing Stores, Etc.

The most note worthy thing about Old Route 99 was at the far end running out of town nestled between a Gas Station and a Music store back from the road was a Adult Book Store (AKA Porn Shop). The Porn Shop was a small grey cinder block building with a Blacked out front window and parking in back. The Crystal Diner just so happened to be located across the street a few doors to the right. As We came out of Crystal The Armenian noticed there was quite a commotion going on over at the Porn Shop. This was something that could not and should be ignored and We headed off words the Porn Shop on foot.

As We got closer We saw that there was a decent sized group (13-15) of Senior Citizens gathered outfronnt of the Porn Shop Entrance. Once We got to the edge of the Porn Shop’s tiny front parking lot We couldn’t believe what We had come across. The Senior Citizen’s were a all female Neighborhood Church Group protesting the Porn Shop in a growing intensity. They were waving signs saying shit like “Sex is for Procreation NOT Recreation”, and shouting “Hell No The Smut Must Go!” while waving their hands in the air.

We stood there smoking cigarettes watching this drama unfold. Finally it was getting old and We were about to go back to the car when the shit hit the fan. 3-4 of the Little Old Ladies bum rushed into the Porn Shop. A minute or so later one of the Little Old Ladies came out and held the entrance door wide open. The next thing anyone knows Sex Toys and Porno Movie DVDs come flying out the door and rain down in the parking lot. This really riled up the other Little Old Ladies into a Senior Insanity driven Frenzy as they started shouting encouragement to the “In Store Invaders” as it were. There’s nothing as absurdly entertaining as watching one Little Old Lady throw a Neon Pink Double Headed Dildo out of a Porn Shop while another Little Old Lady Shouts “Sex Toys are for SINNERS!” or a Little Old Lady picking up a Inflatable fuck doll (that happens to be a fucking Alien, it was like 6’4″, Black Almond Shaped Alien Eyes, “Total Recall” Tits (3), and Purple) and waving it wildly around screaming “Alien Sex Dolls are an Abomination !!!”

At last the Police Showed up to disband the Senior’s and We took off post haste as We hated Cops and were Holding a Variety of Substances in our car. To this day I can close my eyes and see the entire ordeal which still makes me laugh my cinical ass off every time without fail my friends.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident

Preface:

There a couple of things I feel it is imperative that I mention before our story begins.

My dear friend The Arminian was dating this girl named Ivy Savage for a while. The relationship was short and ended in a total full blown Shit Show.
Ivy Savage is not her legal birth name, nor has she changed it legally either. Point being I didn’t change her real name to Ivy Savage.
This story took place many moons ago when I dealt drugs. At the time of this story I and my partners in crime had a batch of LSD called Black Magic. BM got its name for the Black Abstract Swirling Design on one side. BM was the strongest acid We ever had by far, and because of that We cut the Hits in half and sold them as regular Tabs.

Ladies & Gentalmen here for the first time ever, I give you Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident!

It was one of those long monotonous summer days the kind where you feel like you’ve been suspended in time and space. The Armenian and I decided to forego collage to loitering around town selling drugs. Our trademark drug if you will, the one we were best known for was our LSD.

We had just picked up 3 new sheets of blotter acid from our connection who was some weird androgynous motherfucker named Sam Antha that we met along our travels. It was a friend of a friend type deal, and we met him when we where looking to score some weed. For some reason I always felt the urge to hit him which I never did, but dear god did I want to.

That day we were bumming around Ivy’s parent’s house in the Upper Middle Class Suburbs with its large houses and big green lawns. It just so happened Ivy’s little brother Tidbit was also hanging around with a few of his Preppy wannabe be Hippy friends.

Now killing time was a fucking art form where I’m from, and thats why all the kids did was drink/drugs was out of nothing more than sheer boredom. I was out on the backyard deck drinking beer and smoking pot with The Armenian when Tidbit came outside to join us. Tidbit inquired about obtaining some acid so We hooked him and his little buddies up. When Ivy found out she got pissed off but not why you may think. She wasn’t angry because We hooked Tidbit up with the acid, but rather that she would have to keep an eye on him and she had her own drugs to do.

Tidbit and his Pals went off to his room to drop the acid and listen to classic rock like the cliques the were. The Armenian and I continued to party out on the deck while Ivy darted about franticly ranting about god knows what. Ivy was doped up on a cocktail of pharmaceutical drugs for being completely batshit crazy so we tended to ignore her when she started bugging out. The Armenian finally talked Ivy off the ledge (which was no small task I assure you) and she was sitting on the couch drinking Gin out of a Tea Cup.

We were sitting around the living room having decided to abandon the deck for the A/C inside when We heard a commotion. We could make out that it was coming from upstairs so We went up to investigate what was happening. The noise got louder as We reached the 2nd floor, and We could establish the sound coming from the Bathroom. Tidbit’s friends were no where in sight to shed any light on the current state of affairs. The Armenian leaned towards the bathroom door so he could hear a bit better and reported it was Tidbit but he had no idea what the issue was. At last We figured We had only one choice and that was to open the bathroom door and see for ourselves and thats what We did.

Once We flung the bathroom door open We saw Tidbit sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. He had this look a combination of shock, awe, and trama that left him looking utterly horrified. I then asked Tidbit what in the hell was his problem was and no one was prepared for his answer.

Tidbit told us that he was tripping balls and had to talk a shit so he went to the bathroom, sat down, and got ready to handle his business. Apparently half way through the process things went slightly astray. When asked to elaborate further because unless this was an LSD inspired celebratory shit scenario he had more explaining to do. That is when Tidbit said

“I came in here to take a dump and my shit fucked me in the ass, I know what its like to be Gay.”

The Armenian and I broke into instant laughter and were shoved abruptly into the hall by an irate Ivy. Ivy managed to calm Tidbit who then retreated back into his room. I have no idea what he told his Pals about what happen if at all, but I do wonder from time to time.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober

Varieties of Pain

I am writing this blog about pain not because I am feeling creative but I am in pain. All I will say about that is knee and tooth pain. Unfortunately (or fortunately for those of you who like my blogs) these, I think, are two of the worst places to have it. I meaning eating and walking are two things most people (other then Terri Schiavo) have to do every damn day.
OK so on to the good shit.

The types of pain

I’m really just going to go with three types of pain, since the three things I’m about to say would pretty much cover anything you are going through unless you want to be an asshole and try to make categories into subcategories You know who you are you are the dumb asses who say Australia is not a continent it’s just an island or antarctica is not a continenet cuz no one lives there.

So there is emotional pain. This one is pretty boring and can usually be resolved with enough liquor and either a few quick and fast lays or 6 hours of venting while drunk as hell. You pick your poison. Are you old school Madonna (spreading it like a virgin) or are you Celine Dion (spreading it for your manager who is like 50 and you are 14)?

Physically pain is pretty boring too. I think, personally, the worst pain (other then detoxing off drugs) that someone can go through is tooth pain. I am not really taking into account childbirth because that is like expected pain. I mean duh you are gonna be in pain, that’s not why you got knocked the hell up but bloody yes you did so if you go on talking for 3 bloody weeks about it, well then yes golly jeez we don’t care anymore. Send us some pic of your retard kid on an xmas card and shut up, that’s what normal people do,

Then HOLY JESUS yes.

There is spiritual pain. I do not know a whole lot about this in the traditional sense of the word, however I have been known to do a bit of Santeria in my day (I still freakin love it when they look at me like I’m a crazy white person in their store) Ha lets just say I’ve had one really successful spell and a mirade of ones that didn’t go so good. Well I don’t believe that’s what is causing my physical pain but you never know.

CONCLUSIONAY

Anyhoo, I have been wanting to write more. I have soooo many topics in my head to write just about anything however this pain is keeping me away from just about everything in the world. 🙂

But look yes I still smile, yes I still try to live and yes my ass needs to see the doctor, but I am really really lazy and dont like surgery. lol.By SpaceDog

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures. (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober

The Tale of Two Hospitals

Where We moved in the Southern Country there is a choice if need be of 2 different near by Hospitals. On one hand there’s the local Applesburg County’s Lemon Hospital, and on the other you have Poseidon Hospital in the neighboring County of East Chuck Town.

As far as Poseidon is concerned They are excellent, great staff, kick ass nurses, and damn good doctors. I can testify to this first hand as I spent several days there last month for a little heart issue. Poseidon was as wonderful as We were told by everyone We met a true 5 star facility. Once I was released from Poseidon when I talked to someone the FIRST thing they would say (even before asking “How are You”/”How are You doing?”) was that I was Lucky (or that it was “Wonderful/Great/Good” etc.) that I ended up going to Poseidon Hospital instead of Lemon.

Now Lemon Hospital IS A MUCH DIFFERENT STORY ALL TOGETHER!

The Locals actually have a saying about Lemon Hospital that goes like this “Go to Lemon Hospital if You want to DIE.” (The emphasis on die)

In fact Lemon’s reputation has been so shitty for so long people will do pretty much anything in their power to avoid being taken there. The most popular way to assure that the Ambulance takes you too Poseidon is to drive yourself (or have someone drive you if your not capable) just over the boarder between Applesburg and East Chuck Town, and THEN call 911.

This method has become so preferable that a Local Gentlemen started his own “County Line Shuttle Service”. So if your sick or injured, can’t drive yourself, and don’t have anyone else who can drive you then you can call this Gentleman. He will then pick you up at your current location, and drive you over the County line where he will even call 911 on your behalf.

Now this insanely honest and unanimous view of Lemon Hospital is curiously compelling. Its gotten to the point where one of these days I’m going to drive the 50 minutes from my house to Lemon Hospital just to see this Horror Show of a Hospital. I can only imagine based on what I have been told what this Hell Hole Hospital must actually look like.

For example I imagine there is blood splattered everywhere on damn near everything, and severed body parts strewn all across the floor. There dead bodies on gurneys lining the halls under flickering florescent lights. I imagine the Doctor’s all who barely graduated Medical School with a “D” or attended one of the finest Medical Schools in the Tropics. I imagine a skeleton staff comprised of workers who look more like corpses than living human beings working with outdated and flawed Medical Equipment. I imagine there is a Mortuary in the lobby as apposed to a Gift Store. I imagine mold on the walls of the Cafeteria with rather large Rats scurrying about amongst the Roaches. I imagine leaking pipes, rampant rust, pungent stench of sickness and death,over crowded rooms packed with the dying, moans and cries of doomed patients filling the musty, stagnant air, and filth encrusted walls, BUT I can only imagine for the time being.

Perhaps this will help explain my current morbid fascination with the Dreaded Lemon Hospital of Death or perhaps not.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober