New Jersey – f-your blog

FYB’s Friday Midnight Movie By Troma Entertainment : The Toxic Avenger!

FYB could be any More Thrilled than We are to Present Troma Entertainment’s Cult Classic Superhero Black Comedy Splatter Horror Film THE TOXIC AVENGER!!!

The Toxic Avenger was Directed by Troma Founders Micheal Herz and Lloyd Kaufman and Released by Troma Entertainment in 1984. Troma has since Built it’s Legendary Reputation as The Kings of Independent Cinema, and Cult Following of Fans Producing LOW BUDGET B-MOVIES with CAMPY CONCEPTS, JUVENILE HUMOR, and OUTRAGEOUSLY GRUESOME VIOLENCE!

Plot Summery:

Melvin Ferd is a Stereotypical 98 pound Nerd weakling who works as a Janitor at a Local Gym in the Fictional Town of Tromaville, New Jersey, where the Gym Rat Jocks-particular Bozo, Slug, Wanda, and Julie- Harass Him Relentlessly. Melvin’s Tormentors get increasingly More and More Violent, even DELIBERATELY KILLING a YOUNG BOY on a Bike as Part of a Game while Driving around Town Getting Wasted. After The Gang hits the Young Boy They Stop to take Pictures of The CARNAGE as They Laugh at The DEAD BOY’S MANGLED AND LIFELESS CORPSE!

One Day Melvin is tricked during a Prank into wearing a Pink Tutu and Kissing a Sheep before being chased around by a Crowd of Laughing Gym Goers. Melvin Ends up Jumping through a Second Story Window and Landing Head First into a Drum of TOXIC WASTE! Melvin covered in Toxic Waste Residue BURSTS INTO FLAMES sending Him Screaming Down the Street IN HORROR. Melvin runs Home and seeks Refuge and Relief in His Bathtub, BUT the Toxic Chemicals TRANSFORM Melvin into s HIDEOUSLY DEFORMED MONSTER OF HUMAN SIZE AND STRENGTH!

A Gang of Drug Dealers, led by the Criminal Cigar Face, are harassing a Police Officer by the Name of O’Clancy, Trying to Buy Him Off, But O’Clancy Refuses Their Bride. Suddenly The Toxic Avenger appears Out of Nowhere and VIOLENTLY KILLS THE CRIMINALS! Only Cigar Face manages to Escape with His Life and Swears Revenge on The Toxic Avenger No Matter What.

Melvin returns Home, but His Mother is Terrified by His Appearance, and Refuses to let Melvin in the House. So Melvin- Publicly Dubbed “THE MONSTER HERO”(also know as Toxic Avenger or Toxie for Short.) and is Hailed as a Hero. Toxie retreats to the Tromaville Junkyard and Builds a Makeshift Home to Live In.

Elsewhere in Tromaville, a Street Gang are Holding Up a Mexican Restaurant and ATTACK a Blind Woman Named Sarah. They Gang KILLS SARAH’S GUIDE DOG, But Before Things get Worse for Sarah The Toxic Avenger Arrives. The Toxic Avenger precedes to WREAK BLOODY VENGEANCE on the Gang of Street Thugs. The Toxic Avenger continues to Fight Crime, including DRUG DEALERS, PEDOPHILE PIMPS, and He Also Takes His REVENGE on the Four Tormentors who caused His Transformation.

As The Toxic Avenger Gives Aid Helping the People of Tromaville, Mayor Belgoody, the Leader of Tromaville’s Extensive Crime Ring, Fearing being Caught Belgoody sends a Goon Squad lead by Cigar Face to Kill Toxie, But They Fail Miserably, and End Up Accidentally Killing Each other.

When The Toxic Avenger is Accused of MURDERING a Seemingly Innocent Old Lady in a Dry Cleaning Store (Who just so happens to be the Leader of an UNDERGROUND HUMAN TRAFFICKING RING), Belgoody uses the Opportunity to Call in The National Guard. The Toxic Avenger goes into Hiding afraid of what He has Become that is Until The Mayor and National Guard Hunt Toxie Down Trapping Him. As The National Guard prepares to Open Fire On Toxie the Citizens of Tromaville unite to Defend Their Beloved Monster. The MAyor’s Evil ways are Revealed, and The Toxic Avenger RIPS OUT BELGOODY’S ORGANS to see if He has “Any Guts”. The Toxic Avenger Then reassures the Citizens that He will Continue to Fight Crime, and Protect Tromaville from Evil.

Hope You Enjoyed Troma’s Toxic Tale of Terror as Much as We Did/Do.

Thanks for Watching,

Presented by Les Sober

The Violent World of Death Match Wrestling

I have Fell in Love with Hardcore Extreme Wrestling One Fateful Day when I stubbed across an ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) Barbwire Match Featuring Hardcore Icon Terry Funk versus The Homicidal, Suicidal, Genocidal Sabu. It was like nothing I had ever seen but with the Blood and Violence along with a Frenzied Philly Audience chanting things like “Fuck Him Up!” or “WE WANT BLOOD!” had Me Hook line and Sinker.

This Match is Legendary because during the match Sabu accidentally Split Open the Inside of His Left Bicep. Instead of Stopping the Match and seeking immediate Medical Attention Sabu had His Manager Bill Alfonso fetch Him a Roll of Medical/Athletic Tape. Sabu then wrapped Up His Bicep and continued to Wrestle until the End of the Match some 22 minutes or so after the Injury. In Fact Sabu Won by tying Tery Funk to a Table using Barbed Wire, wrapping Barb Wire around His Mid Section, and then Sabu put Funk Through the Table. As soon as the Sabu pinned Funk a Small Team of Crew Member wearing Protective Gloves ran out armed with Wire Cutters and proceeded to cut the Two Wrestlers Free which took Quite a While.

Until that Day the Only Wrestling I was familiar with was the Dueling Spandex Soap Opera Promotions/Federations WWF (Now WWE) and Their long time Rival the Now Defunct WCW (World Championship Wrestling). Now I was watching Wrestlers that looked like Real Life Bad Asses They weren’t all 6′ 5″ with Bulging Muscles clad in Horrendous Spandex sporting Long Hair. ECW was Nothing Hollywood it was Rough, Raw, and Totally Original.

ECW oped the Door of Extreme Wrestling Spawning Many Imitators most Notably The West Coast’s XPW (Xtreme Professional Wrestling) which is No Longer in Existence. Tragically ECW’s Days Were Numbered and Eventually after a Massively Successful Run Exposing America to Extreme Hardcore Wrestling facing Bankruptcy was Purchased By Sack of Shit Vince Mcmahon who’s first Action was to Dissolve the Company and fire the Entire Roster Almost. The ECW Talent Vince Kept were Under Utilized, Marginalized, and General treated like fucking Trash until They left or were Fired.

Luckily for Extreme Hardcore Wrestling Fans the Void was filled by New Jersey’s Own Combat Wrestling Zone (CZW) founded, owned, and Operated by John Zandig until He retired do to the Massive Amounts of Abuse HIs Body had taken over the Years (For Example: During a match Zandig jumped off a fucking 30 Foot Ladder resulting in a Compound Fracture, thats the one where the Broken Bone protrudes through the Skin for all to see.)

Zandig took the Ball from where ECW left off before its Untimely Demise, and ran with it like a motherfucker taking Hardcore Extreme to New Levels of Violence. Zandig coined the term for His New Band calling it “Ultra Violent” Wrestling. Zandig wasn’t just the Founder, Original Owner, and Original Operator He was also a featured Wrestler who participated in some of the Most Outrageously Violent Matches in CZW History.

Zandig was also a Very Intelligent Business Man as well as one Hell of a Wrestler in His own Wrestling Company He knew at the Time being an Indie Promotion was Harder than ever. The WWE had bought out WCW which is the equivalent of Coke ending its Rivalry with Pepsi by Buying The Pepsi Corporation, and ECW the Extreme Hardcore Pioneers had also fallen Victim to the relentless WWE. So Zandig started Inter Federation Promotions with Other Indie Companies starting Rivalries and Feuds between the Different Rosters. This allowed Wrestlers from outside Promotions to come and complete in CZW and Visa Versa.

Also to His credit Zandig spent a good portion of His Wrestling Career Wrestling in Japan primarily in/with Big Japan Pro Wrestling Company where He was Introduced to the Most Brutal and Bloody form of Wrestling: THE DEATH MATCH. Zandig saw the appeal of Death Match Wrestling with American Audiences, and introduced American Wrestling Fans to Death Match Wrestling.

Zandig even set up 2 Special Yearly Death Match Wrestling Specific Events the First was the Annual CZW’s CAGE OF DEATH Tournament and KING OF THE DEATH MATCH Tournament which became HUGE Hits with Hardcore Wrestling Fans.

CZW’s Death Match Weapons Include, But are NOT Limited to: Steel Folding Chairs, Tables, Ladders of Varying Size, Thumb Tacks, Florescent Light Tubes, Panes of Glass, Staple Gun (to prove its real Wrestlers will Staple a Dollar to Their Opponents Cheek, Lip, Tongue, or Forehead), Gas Powered Weed Whacker, Battery Powered Jig Saw, Large Syringes (to Prove They are Real Wrestlers stick them through Their Opponents Cheek or Lip and then Squirt out Saline), Barb Wire, Metal Garbage Cans, Stop Signs, Kendo Sticks, Wooden Food Skewers, Salt (to pour on or in Opponents Open Wounds), Barb Wire Baseball Bats (a Baseball bat with an Excessive Amount of Bar Wire Wrapped around it), Flaming Tables, and even have a “Fans Bring The Weapons” Matches which Allows to Fans to use the Same or Similar Materials to construct a Weapon to be used in the Match (Obviously Nothing Inherently Fatal)

Its NO SECRET I am a Huge fucking Fan of the Viceland Channel and when They announced They would be doing a Series focusing on Different Forms of Wrestling from Around the World I was Ecstatic to say the Least. Vice’s Reporting is Original, Intelligent, In-Depth, and Extremely Well Done (No Pun Intended) thus I assembled the Following 3 Vice Death Match Videos. Enjoy.

Hope You Enjoyed The Trip Down the Bloody Ultra-Violent Hardcore Death Match Wrestling Rabbit Hole to Hell.

Presented By Les Sober

Pennington is SO Shitty………

Just to clarify a few things. First Pennington is a real place. I will NOT disclose anymore than that when it comes to its Geographical Location. If anyone thinks it may be an accidental slip that I’m using an actual name of a Place it is Not. If anyone still thinks I might have divulged a piece of Personal Info I welcome those Readers to go Google Pennington. And Good Luck with that.

Pennington falls in the confines of Spacedog and My old stomping ground and as You can see by the title We don’t hold it in high regard. So one night around 2am SpaceDog and I started a Duel Slam Session featuring Pennington as Our subject matter.

Alright the set up is “Pennington is SO Shitty…” followed by an Insult at Pennington’s Expense. It’s Their fault really for being so Ungodly Shitty.

This Post is laid out a bit differently from the previous Text Posts. I will write the set up once at the beginning, and then use Dot Dot Dot (…) so I don’t have to write (and You won’t have to Read) “Pennington is so shitty” god knows how many fucking times.

LASTLY IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED PLEASE READ ANOTHER ONE OF OUR POSTS AND SKIP THIS ONE. You’ll be doing Us BOTH a Favor.

SpaceDog: Holy shit that’s small. Damn shitty ass little Pennington has like 1000 times more people.

Les: True but Pennington is Cunty.

SpaceDog: Pennington…the town so shitty that even Priests say fuck these assholes.

Les: Pennington is so shitty :FBF (a girl both SpaceDog and I knew) wouldn’t have an abortion there…

…Trump wouldn’t grab a pussy there.

…Courtney Love wouldn’t OD there.

SpaceDog: U on a roll LOL. Pennington is so shitty the pull people over for smoking cigarettes in their vehicles. I’m braindead so u get shitty facts from me at this point LOL.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Yen Latch (Yet another Girl both of Us knew who is now a white trash alcoholic) wouldn’t drink there…

… Ivy Savage couldn’t handle it. (Ivy is yes another Female SpaceDog and I have both had the distinct displeasure of knowing who fancied herself the LOCAL HARDCORE PUNK ROCK AUTHORITY)

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty Ivy Savage uses her real name there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Steve Bannon wouldn’t host a White Nationalist Nazi Rally there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty aunt becky wouldn’t pay bribes to get her kid into collage there.

Les: LOL You out Ivy’d me. Pennington is so shitty Sarah Sanders WOULD go there.

SpaceDog: Penningto n is so shitty sarah sanders would tell the truth there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Octomom wouldn’t strip there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty that if trump wanted to build a wall around it Mexico WOULD pay for it…

…Their official mascot is a suicide victim.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Crack Dealers won’t deal there…

… it makes Wilmington Delaware look like Las Vegas.

… the Residents only Birth Control method needed is the fact they live in Pennington.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty it makes lituspjotaholmaflogur look properly spelled.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Lindsey Graham wouldn’t rape a Farm Animal there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty micheal jackson doesn’t molest boys there.

Yeah duh late…food coma which never would have happened in Pennington…mostly because people bottom out there.

Pennington is so shitty I’ve never eaten there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Jeffery Epstein wouldn’t traffic underage Sex Slaves there…

…Crack Whores avoid it like a Police Station.

…You call the Cops there and they tell you to go get fucked.

… It’s Tucker Carlson’s Home Town.

…Fox News won’t broadcast there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty don jr is moving there.

Les:Pennington is so shitty Fred Phelps wouldn’t be buried there…

… All They Eat is Ass.

SpaceDog:Pennington is so shitty karen carpenter WOULD eat there…

…That all movies depicting suicide are required to play there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty it smells like a fucking manure fire…

…Dogs won’t piss on their Fire Hydrants .

…It’s like living in a massive Port-A-Potty 24 fucking 7.

…”Pennington is so shitty” it’s abbreviated is PISS.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty they’re opening a new kmart there…

…Their idea of a breakfast buffet is a albino midget throwing egg yolks at people.

Les: Pennington is so shitty They use Diarrhea as Lube.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty the only available birth control is thoughts and prayers.

Les: Pennington is so shitty GG Allin wouldn’t play there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty that mass shooters wind up putting the first bullet in their own heads.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Their idea of Fine Dining is GAs Station Sushi and a Bottle of Maddog 20/20.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty their surf and turf special is someone’s goldfish and a whopper junior.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Their idea of a Vacation is living inTheir Cars at Highway Rest Stops…

…Truckers don’t hook up with the local Lot Lizards.

…No One builds Meth Labs there.

…They’re still listening to Limp Bizkit.

… Their Little League Team is the Pennington Shitheals.

SpaceDog:Pennington is so shitty Dick Minninninninninn (a world class fuckwit We both knew) moved there for a year and left looking like this *Picture of Prolapsed Asshole Sent*…

…Their official yule log is just a giant horse shit.

Les: Well the ugly fucker deserved it the unwiped asshole. Pennington is so shitty it’s the Fruit Cake of Towns…

…Will make You chronically Constipated.

…It’s the Birth Place of IBS.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty even rats won’t live there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty its mascot is a fucking Dung Beatle…

…It’s official Flag is just a Giant Asshole.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty that the only trendy resident there is inflatable…

…Its were vegans go to die.

…it will give you toxic fucking shock syndrome.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Tyler Perry shoots Medea movies there.

…Kid Rock is Their fucking Home Town Hero.

…Their Prom theme was The Solid Waste Authority.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty that steve harvey would be their least fucking annoying resident.

Les: Pennington is so shitty Slumber Hills (a Flea Bag Flop House for Whores and Junkies in SpaceDog and My home town) wouldn’t move there…

…They gave Howie Mandel the Key to the City.

…Dave Coulier Shows Sell Out.

…Scammers from India won’t call there.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty that when oprah shot there her book of the month was just a roll of toilet paper…

…That when bad people die they don’t go to hell they spend fucking eternity in Pennington.

Les: Pennington is so shitty all the Photos hung in Local Business like Restaurants and Laundry Mats are of the Cast of The Jersey Shore…

…Their Hospital is a CVS Minute Clinic.

…It hosts an Annual Hemorrhoid Festival.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty women living there consider being called a cunt a compliment.

Les: Pennington is so shitty They still use AOL…

…It has the Highest concentration of Proctologists in the entire fucking Country.

…North Korea feels bad for it.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty their idea of a terrific fucking tv show is God Friended Me…

…Toilet Paper is considered a luxury item.

Les: Pennington is so shitty when You turn the faucet on Natty Ice Light comes out…

…STDs are afraid They’ll catch something.

SpaceDog: Pennington is so shitty it’s illegal to smoke anything except PCP…

…Bill Cosby gets consent there.

Les: Pennington is so shitty the only Cell Phone Service Provider is fucking Sprint…

…Their Baseball Team is Sponsored by The National Flakka Alliance.

…ISIS wouldn’t send a Suicide Bomber there.

…They take Bath Salts and Eat Their own Faces.

PENNINGTON IS SO SHITTY WE CAN’T TALK SHIT ABOUT IT ANYMORE.

Brought To You By,

Les Sober

SpaceDog

None Shall Pass: Spacedog’s Cosmic Conditions for Earth Dwellers

Hi all great earth bound brethren.

I’m back from my trip exploring the cosmos. It was mildly amusing I must say, but my mood swings got a bit in the way. What the hell else is new?

I searched many planets for myself. I tasted many foods, I was on many a tour bus, and the initial, “Let me take a picture with an Earthling!” grew tiresome eventually (to say the least).

I even tried to have a relationship with someone from another planet (I promised him I wouldn’t say which) but as he had no insertion points or points to insert we both agreed that me having a life long thing with vibrating Jimmy was not the best for my future sanity.

So I came back to Earth. What wow it has been like 2 weeks I think???? Yeah it’s been for 2 whole weeks since I’ve landed. I am so glad to be back home.

Enough. Enough. Enough. I am done rambling. You can ask me about my trip privately, I’ve been told I must keep things on the d/l for galactic security purposes. So don’t ask anything you wouldn’t ask your mother. Oh fuck like I would do anything your mother would do. Well maybe one or two friends I could get down and party with mama. You bitches know who you are.

I have started to hear my mind whisper to me again. It is really cool. I thought I’d share this because it means I can actually get it on with writing more of a project that is longer. Wait shit I still ramble.

NOW the point of this post..

There are some I have neglected and some I have not. You probably know who you are. There are some who seem to have crawled into their foxholes and can’t send back a text message.

While there are others of you that show up at my doorstep unannounced, unbridled, and unsane. So let me just give you mofos a little disclaimer.

#1 (yes I am making a list twats)- I may occasional enjoy a bit of plumbers crack, but please don’t be comin’ up on my doorstep with your glass dicks and your nicotine hungry mouths looking for handouts. The missionary is closed. I am no saint. I am not your Mother Theresa. I am missionary position.

#2 I don’t want to hear the same story 5000 times!!! If a story is that amusing to me you will hear a little thing called laughter trickle out of my mouth. If you do me real good, you may even get a snort. If you can get a snort out of me while there is beer in my mouth and it comes out the nose, then you are allowed to tell your stupid story again and then while I’m sober I can laugh about how drunk I must have been to have even seemed mildly interested. I am not groundhog day.

#3 I do not have a warrant for my arrest at the present time. If you piss me off to the point of unannouncedness enough I will call the cops. I am Police Academy.

#4- I am in season. If you would like to stop by, you need a guest pass. If you want a season pass, talk to my pimp.

#5- Yes fuchsia is my natural hair color. I go once a year to Japan for them to fix me up so I assimilate into society better.

#6- No I will not go to church with you. Doing so (no matter how badly I want your essence) will cause my bowels to spontaneously reverse. And yes I have been told the story (personally) of what this entails. I can tell you if you make me go to church and I will help you reverse yours if you force me to do so as well.

#7- Yes those that is my natural eye color. Yes when I get super shitfaced, they gradually go from blue to red and green and if you ask me again I am getting brown contact lenses.

#8- If you’ve actually made it this far, good for you, thankfully there are only two more AND you should go outside after you read my rampage. Spring has sprung, try to smell the love in the air (if you aren’t in love go somewhere by yourself to do this…there’s way more bad feelings floating around out there then love)

#9- Okay so now get down on your knees and face lawrenceville new jersey.

#10- FINAL LIQUIDATION- I am liquidizing my body fat and it will be on sale soon on ebay. If you are in need of a few pounds, please let me know and we can make the trade. I am also liquidizing doom, gloom, misery, and old michael bolton/celine deon albums (anyway those I’m actually burning)

Actually this is kinda like 10b- If you would like to be a part in my first annual burning of bad music please get back to me. It doesn’t have to be a burning any form of destruction will do.

Time has had its way.
You have had your say.
Since your purpose in life was my yesterday.

The ship has pulled into its port
And cocaine with you.
I will not snort.

Even though you’re so dashing.
With your pearly big whites
I’m crashing from the nutmeg
I’m falling through your thighs.

My chimney needs not a sweep from you
And it’s so purple will not do

I climb this bridge
Before I fall
You will catch me
Your eyes will catch me

Z time lasses and lads z time.

By SpaceDog

Kevin Smith in a 532 Word Nutshell.

Kevin Smith was born into a Roman Catholic family on August 2, 1970 in Red Bank New Jersey. He attended and graduated from Henry Hudson High school and went on to attend classes at The New School for Social Research as part of their creative writing program. He ended up leaving The New School for Social Research after a year due to the school’s authorities complaining about Smith’s “undisciplined behavior”. Smith then went on to attend the Vancouver Film School in 1990 for four months. After he left the course he found his life lacking direction and decided to take a job as a clerk at a convenience store in Leonardo New Jersey.

While he was working there, Smith saw Richard Linklater’s low budget comedy “Slacker”. The movie inspired him to write and direct his own work. Smith’s good friend from film school, Scott Mosier, prompted him to write his first script for the movie “Clerks” and in addition to writing the screenplay produced the film along with Mosier. The film followed a day in the life of two central characters Dante and his best friend Randle who work as clerks. Dante works at a convenience store and Randle works at the video rental store next door. Smith shot the film in black and white during the hours after the convenience store he worked for closed, and edited the movie in the store room on his breaks. The film was an acclaimed success, but in 1995 his second movie “Mallrats” ( whose characters hang out at their local mall) was a box office disaster.

Then two years later he released his third movie “Chasing Amy” about a straight man falling for a lesbian woman and the movie was a huge box office success. In 1999 Smith’s fourth film “Dogma” was released and it caused a massive backlash from the Christian community due to its discussion of the religious issues pertaining to Catholic beliefs. The films that followed were 2001’s “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back”, and the big budget film “Jersey Girl” (another colossal flop at the box office), 2006’s sequel to “Clerks” aptly titled “Clerks 2”, “Zack and Miri make a porno” in 2008 ( a romantic comedy that failed at the box office. In 2005 Smith wrote his first book titled “Silent Bob Speaks” a collection of essays on multiple topics .In 2007 Smith wrote the first episode of the short lived television show “Reaper” and served as the show’s executive producer for seven additional episodes.

In 2007 he also started his podcast (which he refers to as SModcast). After “Zack and Miri make a porno” Smith took several years off from writing/directing his own movies and went on lengthy spoken word-like tours of colleges and small theaters discussing a variety of topics from screen writing to his personal life. In 2011 he returned to film. He wrote/directed the film “Red State” (his first horror movie) and “Tusk” in 2012 (after reading a bizarre want add). Additionally in 2012 Smith started his second venture in television with his show “Comic book men” which is a reality tv show filmed in a comic book store. The stars are the store’s staff. Smith has been very vocal about wanting to make one last film pertaining to Hockey.

Thanks For The Read As Always,

Les Sober

Last Voicemail Message from SpaceDog Transcribed by Les Sober

Welcome

It was an autumn night. The year 1994. I was 16. I remember this night for it was my first introduction to the ‘gay community’. It was my first night at a gay bar. The people I was with told I was at the ‘Little Roxy’ (in New Brunswick, NJ maybe?).

As I walked in, I took in the room. The first thing I noticed were the stares. The first thing I felt was the hand of an intoxicated man grabbing my ass. It was immediate uncomfortablity. I was offered a drink but I just wanted to get out. I did eventually.

We proceeded to go to Roxy in New York. I was in awe. At first I loved it, then it struck me as odd, then it struck me as love again. I noticed everybody being really gropey to one another. Then the people I was with (a much older sampling of men probably mostly over 40) all started kissing together in a circle. I, being in the city on their pursestrings, joined. It was all odd in the long run, then I was taken home, snuck in my window, and went on with my regular life.

Looking back at this specifically it just strikes me as odd how this group of friends would all get tongue twisted like that. I shouldn’t judge really, I’ve hooked up with a friend or two in my days but it was basically my first impression.

On my eighteenth birthday, I was ostracized by my closest gay friend for not wanting to go out to a club. I wanted to be around my straight friends and for this I was condemned and condoned.

‘Why would you want to be around straight people?’ You can’t get any cock with them!’, he viciously barked at me.

My simple reply was,’Life is not just about sex. It is about being around people that I enjoy the company of whether they are straight or gay.’ Sadly this wasn’t the only time I heard this from a fellow gay.

Prelude to a F*** OFF

Before I begin this section I just want to state that I have had fun at gay bars and clubs in the past. I have also had fun while being stranded in snow storms along the side of the road and have had fun while being searched by the police. I even have had fun with someone after suicide attempt. Does this make me sick and twisted? More then likely yes. I adapt to the cards I am dealt on a given occasion and try to make the best of things. We aren’t always dealt a great hand and even when we are there are infinite ways we can screw it up (and vice versa).

F*** OFF!!!!!!!!!!

I am completely tired of how gay people act as a whole. Sure as a ‘community’ we can band together and protest things like prop 8 which I am proud of, yet the remander of the time we tear one another apart.

I choose not to part of a ‘community’ wear all that is praised is vanity, clothing labels, and how many cocks we can suck. I choose not to be a part of something where self centeredness reigns queen supreme. Where narcassism is considered a positive attribute and altruism is a red flag for let’s take advantage of him. Where people not conforming to the majority are made to feel like a right wing nut job at an Obama rally.

And nearly fifteen years after my first experience with the ‘community’ I have realized nothing has changed. It is all just still a big meat market, devoid of morals, devoid of much more then what can you do for me now. I don’t really expect more and never have or will. It is what it is.

On a personal note, I have noticed that things such as honesty, whether about yourself or someone else is chopped down to an unacceptable level.

Nine times out of ten when I tell someone that I have epilepsy they suddenly look at me differently like I have eight legs or they want me to have a seizure like, ‘HERE SPARKY BARK SPARKY’ F*** SPARKY!!!

I tell them I think Britney Spears, Ashley Simpson, Miley Cyrus and their legion of doom can all go suck my cock and that I like a lot more rock music and that the music playing in this club makes me to shoot myself in the head, they are either personally affronted or think I literally want to shoot myself in the head. Like I’m gonna go out like Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley and off myself just because I listen to their music.

When someone asks my opinion, I do not sugar coat it. I tell it like it is. I do not hang in close surroundings with people I detest. People are so offended by bluntness and honesty because the truth hurts.

Would you rather be lied to all your life by people you think are your friends or would you rather be told the truth by your enemies? Lest we forget the old saying:, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer.’

A lot of people who portray themselves as genuine will stab you in the back in front of their friends. Some people will simply reveal their true colors over time.

Which is why I simply say F*** OFF to the ‘gay community’ and for those of you fed up as well, welcome to my gay revolution.

Hmmmm What That Smell?! By Spacedog

MARIJUANA!!!!!

When times are tough and times are dull, I think back to the life I once led in the south of Columbia. Sure it was difficult. I mean there was enough cocaine to help me stay awake for weeks upon end. That was always fun. Even just chillin with Pablo and Juan Valdez made for some good times I’ll never forget. There is one person though I will never forget. Her name was Mary Jane.

My own personal Mary Jane was a big, tall strong woman. Sure I don’t have much of a proclivity towards women but she was twelve feet tall and smelled like no other woman I have met since. I even liked her seed and well that’s not the kind of seed that ole Jeffy usually takes a likin too.

She kept me safe and warm. Whenever I got home from a night at the theatron de pelicula and had bad things squirt in my eye, she was there to heal my infection.

The night I saw all of Pablo’s men get mowed down in a rain of gunfire, Mary Jane was there. I just put her in my bong and smoked her down and off I went to the club. I could already taste the rainbow even though well that was for later. Shhhhh…… And she never told any of my secrets.

She was my mother, my sister, my dominatrix, my bulldyke, and my fag hag all rolled up into one great big, bright ass spliff. She let me tolerate more Britney Spears then any human could just so I could bring the next Juan or Carlos or Juan Carlos or fuck why not all of them back to my humble mud hut.

Eventually though we grew apart. My funds in Colombia were confiscated and back off to New Jersey I so went. That was in 1980. Oh how I miss 1980. Those were the days.

Mary Jane?

So then I was walking down the street yesterday and saw this midget girl (aptly named Midge) I knew from the club. She was a fun one to know, I mean anyone who smokes out of a bong taller then them is alright with me.

Midge introduced me to her friend. His name was Kyle. He smelled of dirt, he smelled of mud, he smelled of naughty things. So he smelled like Mary Jane. So then we smoked and then we went back to my place and Midge took pictures. She wanted to join in but I have a moral code up in this bitch. If I can teabag you standing up it’s a no go. That is my number one moral in life.

You may say I’m a dreamer. I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie Part 1 of 2

The first time I heard “Bite It You Scum” by G.G. Allin and The Murder Junkies, I was standing in the dungeon-like basement of The Barfly Lounge somewhere in the bowels of Philadelphia’s less then desirable south side, which was the only venue that would host a G.G. Allin and The Murder Junkies show. I was with my two work partners in crime Mike (a photographer) and Chuck ( Event liaison) who had found out about the concert the previous month while visiting Chuck’s sister who lived on South Street in Philly. This was the pre-internet era so the only way for unsigned bands to promote their shows was papering every free surface with flyers up and down the street. They also relied heavily on the power of word of mouth. It was one of those flyers, tacked to a telephone pole, that Chuck saw as he was walking down the street on his way to buy a pack of cigarettes. We decided it was a show that was a once in a life time chance not to be missed. So Chuck had approached our editor Vincent V. at “Grind Spine” magazine where all three of us were currently working while taking some time off before college.
We had made the hour long drive over to Philly from Gitsville NJ in Chuck’s car which in all due favor was a complete junker. The driver’s door shook so bad you thought at any second it would pop open. The speedometer was not to be trusted. There was a hole in the floor board. The radio only got one AM station, and the car seemed to have a front head light that was eternally out. When we arrived at the bar there was no appropriate parking so we had to park on the street four blocks away and walk. The corners were inhabited by hookers and drug dealers. The streets were lined with litter and more than a few homeless panhandlers. This was the type of neighborhood that if you drove through it you wouldn’t stop at red lights. Finally, we got back to the bar unscathed and in one piece, and then the door man (who looked to actually be a local biker) barely glanced at ID’s before letting us in with the stern warning “You guys don’t start any shit and I won’t have to beat the shit out of you.”
After such nice parting words from the doorman, the three of us shuffled single file through the narrow doorway of the bar. The Barfly Lounge was a small and rather cramped 500 square feet with an L shaped bar to the left. The right side of the room hosted a motley crew of tools, chairs, and wobbly tables. The only apparent patrons in the bar looked like a small group of local regulars from the surrounding neighborhood most sitting hunched over at the bar, a beer clutched tightly in one hand, and either a lit cigarette or shot glass in the other. The lighting in the bar was well beyond dim as the few spare lights that hung from the ceiling were enveloped in a thick pungent cloud of smoke that hovered like a smog cloud over Los Angeles. The thing I will remember most about The Barfly till the day I die was the overwhelmingly putrid stench, a vile smelling mix of stale beer, body odor, cigarette smoke and what we all assumed to be vomit.
“The show is in the basement. The door is in the back, next to the restroom.” said the bartender in a deep gravely voice reminiscent of Tom Waits. We slowly made our way to the back of the bar trying to see where we were going in order to avoid tripping or worse, falling onto the cesspit of a floor, and as we walked by a few of the weary down trodden customers lifted their heads just enough to stare at us as we passed. The door to the basement was a hideous dark green and had a thick greasy coat of nicotine . We cautiously proceeded down the bare concrete stairs I couldn’t help thinking that I had seen plenty of horror movies that started like this. We entered the gloomy basement which smelled so heavily of mold and mildew you had to wonder how being in this environment could negatively affect your respiratory system. We had come to far to turn back. The only light in the dank basement were the stage lights which were actually quite intense with a white light that almost felt like when you stared into the sun as a kid. Rusty exposed pipes hung from the ceiling several had been patched with duct tape and were in various stages of deterioration. There were only a handful of people lingering around waiting for the show to start in growing impatience. There was a thin lanky man about six foot two who looked like he weighed 160 pounds soaking wet and was no doubt a junkie, but he was a junkie selling 16 ounce cans of Budweiser for $3.00 a piece out of a couple of dirty igloo coolers at his feet to fund his heroin habit. Suddenly the The Murder Junkies (G.G. Allin’s last backing band before his death in 1993) wandered lazily onto the stage where the bassist and guitarist plugged in their instruments and did a quick tune up. The drummer came out completely naked fully having earned the nickname Dino The Naked Drummer (who played naked so while drumming his clothes wouldn’t chafe his skin) and sat down behind the drums looking a bit lost as usual. It was then I became aware as I was watching the cliches and stragglers about fifty people or so had piled into the basement behind us, but were standing at the back of the room the farthest they could from the stage. The band all of a sudden launched full tilt into one of their signature songs “Bite It You Scum” and the crowd went feral. A young man who identified himself as Unk asked if we had been to a G.G. Allin show before and we said no we hadn’t. Unk went on to tell us he had found the safest place to be at G.G. Allin shows and that was behind him. No sooner had Unk finished speaking than the man referred to as the most spectacular degenerate in rock-n-roll history took the stage.

“If Your Donald Trump’s Assistant Why Do You Drive A Ford Escort?” By Spacedog In His Delightfully Demented Debut

I guess some people just can’t help themselves. Some people just spurt all kinds of lies out of their mouths. I am guilty as well, heck I was caught in a tiny little lie tonight. Some people can lie about much more though. Some lies people tell are funny. Others are mean and there are even a few people that tell the lie even more then they tell the truth.
I once met a rather attractive man. He was from somewhere out on Long Island, I’m not exactly sure where at though. He was 25. So I met him in the city and he wanted to take me out to dinner. OK, why not I thought? He told me he was Donald Trump’s personal assistant. I was young. I was vain. I was thinking cha-ching. I was _________ (fill in your favorite negative word to describe me).
So he comes to Jersey to pick me up. He was driving a Ford Escort. A small little red flag went off in my head. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just cheap with his cars or maybe the beamer was in the shop.
So we go out to eat. We start driving down the road towards nothing in particular and are just talking. He pulls into the mall. I hate the goddamn mall. So I tell him and we leave the mall. It is at this moment that he tells me how much he likes Wendy’s and asks me where there is one. Not my idea of a “date” (I suppose this was a date?) I thought at least Fridays. So we end up at Wendy’s.
He buys me whatever I wanted but then he gets two things from the dollar menu and that was it. Red flag number two I thought. Hmmmmm maybe he could be anorexic? The other half of me was still trying to defend him.
So then we get to the movies. He wants to see nothing in particular and whenever I suggest a movie, he claims he already saw it and it was lame. So we rent a movie. Red flag number 3? Oh he must be a strong man with strong opinions.
So we go and watch the movie. I go in the door, he comes in the window. We watch. He keeps complimenting me. He wants something. What does he want? Oh wait, me? But the little flags go up and my pants don’t. So he leaves after that.
About two weeks later, I go back to New York. I’m having a pretty good time, meeting people, dancing (yes I once danced), and I see someone cute. So we start talking and I tell him I’m dating someone but it isn’t really that serious. I like to talk too much so I describe the guy. He gets a distraught look on his face.”Does he work for Donald Trump?”, cute boy asks me. “Yeah he told me that.” I reply.
Turns out he really was 35 years old, worked at the Dunkin Donuts, lived with the parents and not in the penthouse, was HIV positive, had lied to cute boy, and also infected him.
All shreds of decency for this man completely died. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to key this man’s car or worse. Then I saw cute boy and I hugged him. He didn’t deserve all this. I didn’t. No one else did.

Shady man had a decent personality and looked good but everything about him was a lie. His whole being was a lie. The few positives about him were bludgeoned. Thankfully shady man was an exception to the rule.
People still can’t help but lie. The age lie is way too common. The ages of 18,21, 29, and 39 still sends off bells and whistles in my head. 18 because I used to say that when I was 14 or 15, the rest because people like to hold on to their 20s or 30s like there is going to be some catatonic occurrence if they were actually 30 or 40.
I am 30 and damn proud. I gave the whole lets pick a random number in the 20s and be that a thought, but it quickly died there. I like to keep my lies simple. Things like: “I have to go my sister just put our rabbit in the microwave or AAAAAAHHHH I just let a squirrel in the house or my dad is attacking my mom with a meat cleaver.” Those work much better for me.
All I can really say to the true liars is this. Watch out cuz spacedog is gonna go into gay commando mode when he finds out. Anyone who’s gone out with me for drinks in Pennsy knows about this mode. Beware.

-spacedog-