Monthly Archives: October 2007

Don’t Fear the Leaf Dudes or should ya?

A few years ago…..actually about 20 years ago we had some fun with trick-or-treaters.  We were downtown P’boro at our friends house.  They had a ton of kids come that year.  

Anyway, I dressed up in some old clothes, put on gloves and a mask.  I stuffed leaves in my sleeves, in the chest area of the shirt, in the neck area and in my socks.  Totally, absolutely totally looking like one of dem stuffed leaf dudes people put on their lawns. 

I plopped down into a lawn chair on the deck right next to the stairs. 


The poor unsuspecting bastards.

When the kids came to trick-or-treat I would wait until they came up on the deck.  I’d sit and wait until I was barely in their peripheral view.  That’s when I would move, slightly, just a wee bit of a move. 

Just a slight twitch, like a leaf had moved in my collar.

Their heads would spin around and they’d stare at me.  They’d stare right into the eyes of the mask…..looking to see any sign of life… 

I’d wait until they looked away and then move again.  Just a slight movement, nothing definitive, like a shadow.

Once again, they’d jerk their heads around and stare at me.  A stare you’d see as if they were looking into the dark woods for the boogy man himself.  Not really quite seeing, not really wanting to see whatever it was they were looking for.

hehehehehe, I had them right where I wanted them….

Sometimes that would be the end of it.  Maybe one more movement, nothing more.  Let them leave thinking about the leaf dude at the house on Main St.  Leave them talking amongst themselves about what they swore they saw.

Leave them thinking about the fear they felt.  You know, that little tingling on the back of your neck.

 Then there were the other times.

Once more I’d move so as to attract their stare.  I’d do this a couple of times.  You know, get them nudging their friends, whispering and pointing at the leaf dude.

It was at about this time that I’d move and scream BOO at the same time.


I almost felt bad when a few younger ones screamed and started to cry.  Hey, its Halloween ya little fucking gremlins….toughen up. 

I am sure I made more than a few of those trick-or-treaters leave a snickers or two in their costumes.


Fear is a funny thing and the mind knows exactly how to tap into those fears.  Sometimes all it takes is that special key to unlock that fear door.  A key that you might not even know exists.  A door that you don’t even know exists.   A key like a leaf dude.

Leaf dudes ain’t suppose to move. 

Just like there ain’t suppose to really be a boogy man. 

So, next time you’re walking past one of dem leaf dudes and have the urge to kick or hit it.  Remember, sometimes things ain’t what they always appear to be. 

Maybe one of those times the leaf dude is gonna grab your leg and drag you screaming into the dark woods and introduce you to his friend, the boogyman. 

Then in the dark, damp woods the leaf dude and the boogyman will introduce you to a fear that your mind could never imagine. 

A fear your mind can’t comprehend. 

A fear your mind will never release you from…..a door that you can never close…..



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The Invisible Man and Bob

So, do you have a costume picked out for Halloween?  

I picked mine out the other day.  I am going as the invisible man.  No clothes, just gonna go trick-or-treating in my birthday suit.  Since I am the invisible man no one will be any wiser.  They’ll open the door and a brown grocery bag will be there about 3 feet off the ground.  To them it will look like it’s hovering. 

I am sure they’ll be inquisitive about how the bag, grocery bag you sick mutha effers,  is staying in the air with no visible means of support.   

Did you ever wonder if those “magicians” like Copperfield, Angel, etc., go trick-or-treating.  Well let me tell you a little story…..let’s pretend….there you are, all chilled up in your house after firing up some major doobage, handing out candy to the little costumed bastards like methadone to the junkies in the city when all of a sudden there’s a knock on the door and there’s fucking Davey Coppertone.   Yep, the one and only.  So he says, “trick-or-treat.”

I ain’t no idiot.  When Davey Coppertone says trick-or-treat you better say trick…cuz he’s davey coppertone.

Next thing you know, POOF and there’s an elephant standing in your front yard. 

“Wow, that’s pretty fucking cool,” you think to yourself.  Shit, that’s worth three Reese’s peanut butter cups.

You politely hand him the candy and say thanks.  You then shut the door and as you head back to the couch you think, “must be really good doobage.”

Sitting on the couch you start laughing that you can’t believe you just hallucinated an elephant on your front lawn….

Seconds later you’re stirred from your doobage induced coma by a loud sound coming from your front lawn.  A sound that strangely sounds like that of an elephant.

Getting up off the couch you walk over and open the door and look outside.

“What the fuck,” you mutter as you stare in utter amazement.  There is a fucking elephant in your front yard. 

“Bastard,” you think.  “Fucking bastard really made an elephant appear.”  What the fuck.

As your doobage encrusted synapses finally muster up enough energy to string together a few rational thoughts you say to yourself,

“That sonofabitch, he made an elephant appear and now he’s gone.”

“Hey Coppertone,” you scream.

“Yo, magic dude, where the fuck are ya.”

“Hey Copperleg, come get your elephant.”

No luck.  “Where the fuck did he go, bastard.”

“What the fuck am I gonna do with an elephant,” my few remaining brain cells ask each other….

“Hey elephant, I call out, “what is your name?”

The elephant looks down at me, wrinkles his eyebrow – this causes his ears to wiggle – he then takes his trunk and attaches it to the top of my head and makes like a vacuum.

“Stop that,” I yell as I wipe elephant boogers off my head.

I look over at the elephant and I swear he’s got a smirk on his face.

“What is so funny,” I ask to no one in particular.

The elephant just stands there staring at me.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with an elephant,” I think to myself.

Goddamn.  Who the fuck do I call about getting rid of an elephant?

That’s when I heard it.


Looking at the elephant I say, “did you just say your name was Rob?” 

No response.

Looking around the yard I cannot see anyone else.

OK, what the fuck is going on?

Then it happened –  

“No I said my name is Bob, you idiot.”

Ok, now I ain’t shitting ya…..the elephant said his name is “Rob.” 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah Rob?” I stutter

“Waddya hard of hearing?  I said my name is Bob,” yelled the slightly annoyed pachyderm.

“Where the hell is Copperfield?” he asked.

“Ah, ah, ah, Bob, I don’t know,” I stammered.

“I think he left you here.”

“He’s an asshole.  He’s always doing this to me.  Last time he left me at Michael Jackson’s place for a month,” said Bob.

Standing there I say to self, “deep breath, OK, don’t panic.  I have a talking elephant in my front yard, no big deal, everyone has a talking elephant in their yard,” then I remember, shit I only have two bags of peanuts….”

As my brain continues to process the scene Bob reaches over with his trunk again and affixes it to the top on my head.

“Stop that,” I yell, “what the fuck am I supposed to do with you Bob.” 

“Shit, you won’t fit in the house.”

“He,he,he,he,he” Bob laughs and then winks.

There’s a bright flash and next thing I know Bob has shrunk himself to the size of a house cat.

“Whoa, that’s so cool,” I say to Bob.

“This should make things a little easier until we figure out where the fuck Coppernutz is,” says Bob.

“Right on Bob, I got some peanuts inside, it’s much warmer in there, let’s go on inside and figure out what we’re gonna do,” I say. 

“Works for me,” says Bob as he bounds up the stair of the deck.  “I’m starving.”

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Look I got no pants

Looks like Autumn is trying to nudge it’s way onto the climatological landscape here in New England.  Woke up today to a raw, wet Autumn day.

As I sit at my computer and look out at the yard, the grayness of the morning is broken up by the muted oranges, reds and yellows of the leaves on the maple trees that border the property and the ground beneath them.

It’s a very close race right now.  Matter of fact it’s almost a dead heat – yep, there are about the same number of  leaves on the trees that there are on the ground,  but it is getting close.  Getting close to the ground winning.  In the end the ground always wins.

Damn you ground!  You and your conspiratorial friend gravity.  Damn you both to hell!

I love days like this, it makes the coffee taste that much better. 

Funny thing – Monday I was taking the trash down to the street-side and on the way back I had an overwhelming urge to strip naked and walk back to the house….well I got my shirt off and started to take my shorts off when I had a second thought and decided my nakedness might not be a good thing for my neighbors to see.

Well I am sitting here Wednesday morning with a feeling of unfulfilled nakedness.  I offer this warning to all – I will have to fulfill this feeling of silly nakedness and I am not sure when it’s gonna strike….so be ready to cover your eyes….. 

Final small business ownership thoughts…. 

The reprobates I call employees continue to amaze even me with their profound ability to embrace ignorance.  They are a passionless group of people which I have been unable to get to see the light and that makes me very sad.

I have shared my thoughts on life with them but I am not sure they get it.  This is what I shared:

1.  Be positive and bring fun where ever you can.

2.  Live with passion

3.  Laugh everyday

4.  Learn from everyone and everything

5.  Make time for you

6.  Be unpredictable

So as I finish my coffee I get ready to continue the battle against ignorant, negative and passionless people of the world.   Sometimes it’s not easy, shit I know that better than most….trust me. 

It’s made easier today because I am wearing my spiderman underoos and have unmatched socks on.  Why you ask?

Cuz I fucking can!

 So have a GREAT day, make someone laugh, learn something new and most of all – BE PASSIONATE ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU DO!


Oops, almost forgot to put my pants on…..damn I hate when I do that…..


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Evil Giant Ants

Just fucking great….

Ma just emailed me and told me there was an old rumor that someone had hanged (hung) themselves in the basement at 48 Pond St.  Sweet Jebus, I knew the damn place was haunted. 

I remember having a reoccurring nightmare when I lived in the EviL HOuSe on Pond St.  It would wake me up and I’d run into my parents room and climb under their bed.  I remember lying there under the bed and looking out into the hallway and watch in horror as the giant ants marched by the doorway.  These ants were easily a foot and a half tall and they walked upright.  I ain’t shittin ya.  They were evil ants.  Large, black, evil fucking ants.  I am convinced they were all part of the Nasty’s evil plot to get me.   

I remember it like it was tomorrow.  What I don’t remember is whether the part about running to my parents room and climbing under their bed was part of the dream or I really did go into their room and then fell asleep under their bed.  Then again, maybe the whole fucking thing was a dream.

To this day I have little tolerance for ants.  It’s all the Nasty’s fault.

Down the hallway was the closet that contained the entrance to the attic. 

An attic that I can honestly say I only went into once.  Part of the issue was that the closet was a big walk-in type thingee that was filled will all kinds of shit and the hatch to the attic was in the back corner. 

The one time I went up there I opened the hatch and proceeded to stick my head through a think, dusty old spider web.  Ewwwwww.   I was distracted for a moment but I thought I saw one of dem Nasty’s outta the corner of my eye. I quickly closed the hatch, jumped into a pile of old clothes and made my way back to my bedroom.

I may have never seen them in the attic but I sure as hell heard them as I lay in my bed trying to sleep.  They’d fuck with me all the time.  They let me start to fall asleep and then make a little thump on the ceiling above me or in the wall next to my head.  Fuckers, I knew it was them.  They could get around the house through the passageways they made in the walls and ceilings.  Evil little fuckers. 

One night we all went out for dinner and the Nasty’s went to work.  Somehow they managed to jam a face cloth into the upstairs bathroom sink and turned the water on.  I am convinced the Nasty’s thought we were still home and were looking to flush all of us down into the basement where they could drag us into their evil lair through that hole in the floor.

Well we came home and the plaster ceiling in the living room bulged down like Nicole Richie’s belly in month 8 of her pregnancy.  I vaguely remember coming into the house and watching as my father pierce the ceilling with a screwdriver to release the gallons upon gallons of water the Nasty’s had caused to accumulate above the ceiling.

We survived, much to the dismay of the Nasty’s.  My sister believed she had caused the accident.

I knew better, it was the Nasty’s.  The evil little unrelenting fuckers.  It was all their fault. 

The Nasty’s made their point a short time after when they jammed our cat into the engine of a friends new Ford Mach 1 Mustang.  Unknowingly he started the car and then next thing we knew our parents were telling us the cat had gone to live on a farm far away.

The damn Nasty’s……

I went by the old house a couple months ago and it looked quite normal.  No little glowing eyes staring out at me.  No evil shaped smoke coming outta the chimney.  There were a couple of young children playing in the small front yard, maybe, just maybe the Nasty’s were no longer there.

Shit, if the Nasty’s aren’t there, where are they?

Hmmmm I think I need to investigate…..

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I am sorry, we disagree….you will now be deleted


Now that’s an interesting concept.  Everyone has them. 

The question is does it honestly pay to share them anymore. 

Sometimes sharing an opinion can get you in trouble, especially if it’s an opinion not shared by the majority of society.  Then again you can get in trouble at an individual level too. 

Sometimes it’s easier to keep your mouth shut and not offer an opinion.  Like when your significant other holds up an orange plaid coat  against their blue and grey plaid pants and says, “Don’t you just love this combo?”  Or maybe when they ask you if something makes them look fat.  Ughhh. 

That’s my problem, I don’t do the mouth shut thingee very well.

I stumbled into an interesting case of censorship this weekend. 

I had happened to share a less than positive opinion on a food forum regarding a recent meal I had at a very popular restaurant.  No agenda, just sharing my opinion.  Within an hour my post had been deleted from the forum.  I wrote an email to the administrators of this wine and dine forum on a popular western Massachusetts web site and asked them what their criteria is for removing posts from the forum. 

I got a response that said that “due to security reasons they can’t share that information with me.”

Security reasons….what the fuck, is the administrator John “Asscroft.” 

“Due to security reasons???” 

I can hear it now –Alarm sounds in the background – whoop, whoop, whoop

A recorded voice comes over the intercom and says –“We have a negative opinion in the food forum move to defcon 7”  (Is it defcon or defecate?  Either way it means the shit has hit the fan.)

“Initiate purge program on opinion number 4735”

“Update program with positive feedback comment flood – STAT.”

I thought to myself – what the fuck.  If this shit is happening in the supposed liberal happy valley this can’t be a good thing.  Then again the website is overseen by the local Springfield bird cage liner.

Damn, if it happens at this level can you imagine what it’s like where the shit really matters. 

Nah, I am sure Dick and George allow people to truly speak their minds and share opinions that may not agree with Dick and George’s.  Sure, happens all the time.  YIKES! 

Then again people like us, intelligent with strong opinions, scare people.  So rather than debating the merits of differing opinions the Lemmings make the differing opinions go away.  

See ya!

Remember the PMRC.  

You know that organization Tipper Gore started to save us from amongst other things – ourselves.  God knows I am in the fastest bucket to hell or worse a gubernatorial run.  I never realized that goober was the first part of that word…then again I live in a state that elected someone named Mitt.  All of this because I listened to Frank Zappa sing about the funky little Jewish princess with titanic tits and sandblasted zits – speaking of which…check out these lyrics – now y’all gonna go to hell too!  HA HA! 

Jewish Princess – Album Sheik Yerbouti

I want a nasty little Jewish Princess
With long phony nails and a hairdo that rinses
A horny little Jewish Princess
With a garlic aroma that could level Tacoma
Lonely inside
Well, she can swallow my prideI want a hairy little Jewish Princess
With a brand new nose, who knows where it goes
I want a steamy little Jewish Princess
With over-worked gums, who squeaks when she cums
I don’t want no troll
I just want a Yemenite holeI want a darling little Jewish Princess
Who don’t know shit about cooking and is arrogant looking
A vicious little Jewish Princess
To specifically happen with a  AYAYAY pee that’s snapin’
All up inside I just want a princess to rideAwright, back to the fop… everybody twist!I want a funky little Jewish Princess
A grinder; a bumper, with a pre-moistened dumper
A brazen little Jewish Princess
With titanic tits, and sand-blasted zits
She can even be poor
So long as she does it with four on the floor (Vapor-lock)I want a dainty little Jewish Princess
With a couple of sisters who can raise a few blisters
A fragile little Jewish Princess
With Roumanian thighs, who weasels ‘n’ lies
For two or three nights
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites

God bless Frank Zappa

I remember John Denver and Frank Zappa had to testify before congress because they thought their 1st amendment rights were being violated by the PMRC.  Yes, that John Denver, god bless his soul. The same John Denver who’s concert with the Starland Vocal Band I almost got kicked out of at the New Haven Coliseum  for smoking a doob.  OK, OK  my girl friend Debbie wanted to go.  If it is any consolation earlier that same week I saw Foghat and Aerosmith and no one was getting kicked out for nothing. 

I think that was the show I went into the bathroom and for $5 got a handful of synaptic provocateurs and next thing I knew I was on the top of the New Haven Coliseum parking garage running around on the top of the side wall (about 60 feet up on a 16 inch wide piece of concrete).  Good thing I wasn’t paying attention.

Where was I….oh yes, “Rocky Mountain High,” by John Denver was actually banned because of it’s drug implications.  Yep, first it was Rocky Mountain High for me and then next I was running naked with an Uzi in the sand at the public beach.  Thank god Tipper saved me.  HA!  Can you imagine having a conversation with someone like Jim Carroll and explaining to him that your gateway to enlightenment was John Denver’s, Rocky Mountain High.


Double he he.

Where the fuck was I – oh yea, being censored.

Go to Walmort someday.  Not to buy anything please, just go for research.  They only sell music and books after they’ve been cleansed of  all the evil words and implications.  I do not shop at walmort for that reason.  

Can you imagine a world according to walmort…..scary part is that it is we’re not far from that….

Lator Gator…… 


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What’s in your Pinata?

I was at the store the other day and overheard the following conversation –

 Lady #1 – Hey Jane whats in your pinata?, Lady #1 asked as she stood there holding a very, very large bag of candy.

Jane – I don’t know?  Is the pinata I bought empty?

Lady #1 – How should I know what’s in your pinata, you bought it?

Jane – Shit, I don’t know if there is anything in it.  That would be terrible if there was nothing in it.   Let’s get the candy, worst case is we eat it ourselves.

I laughed for a long time thinking about the conversation.  I am not sure what’s better – actually hearing someone ask what’s in someone elses pinata or the thought of an empty pinata.  That’s worse than getting a sock full of coal.

So I ask you, what’s in your pinata?

Mine would be chock full of minature pinata’s that each contain a single piece of candy.  That would be wicked funny.  Smack open the pinata only to be covered in an avalanche of tiny pinata’s that you then have to smash open with a tiny baseball bat.

You could have a very fun time with an adult version of the pinata…..hmmmm….how ’bout a pinata full of tequilla minatures or maybe chock full of synaptic provocateurs.  That’d give a whole new meaning to pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.

We had a pinata over the summer and there was almost a tragic accident.  It seemed while my nephew was about to wack the pinata with the stick, my niece decided to walk over to the pinata.

Stick + nephew + pinata + niece = Ouchie

We all survived to see another pinata.

Today my pinata is full of love and more love.  Had a great night of sleep last night and today is probably one of the last days of the year in the happy valley in which we’re going to see 80 degrees!  It is beautiful out.  Ha, maybe you should leave it out.

Ciao for Niao

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The Nasty’s


Woke up this morning to a very foggy, dark new england morning.  With a piping hot cup of joe in my hand it gave me pause to think about spooky stuff.  Maybe it’s the fact I can see the enormous pile of wood in my driveway and it’s haunting me….

I grew up in a house that was so evil it made that Amityville house look like a McDonalds playroom.  Then again with the world today maybe those Playrooms ain’t so safe either.

The worst thing about the house was the basement.

The door to the basement was in the kitchen, an old ill fitting door that simply latched shut. 

No lock, no metal bars, nothing, simply a cheesy metal latch.  

The basement walls were not poured concrete, they were stone walls.  The kind of stone walls that were home to evil glowing eyes.  Eyes that I remember seeing a number of times. 

The basement floor was part dirt and part concrete. 

In the concrete section there was a small concrete lid type thing with a metal loop embedded in the top.  The lid covered some sort of hole.  A hole that had an opening that was no more than 10 inches x 12 inches – plenty of room for evil nasty’s to come out of…..  A hole so deep and black that you couldn’t see the bottom.  A hole that I knew was home to the Nasty’s.

The worst part of the basement was that there was no light switch at the top of the stairs.  Nope the light was at the bottom of the stairs.  Old, rickity wooden stairs that ran down along one of the stone walls of the basement, the other side of the stairs was open to the basement.  Open for the Nasty’s to grab you.

Going down was a non issue.  You opened the door, had enough light from the kitchen to see the bottom of the stairs and the string for the light.  Run down, pull the string and the basement lit up.  I knew that all evil monsters were afraid of light.  Light was my power.  As long as the light was on, I was safe.

Coming back up stairs is where the problem began.  Shit it makes my heart pound in my chest just thinking about it.

Picture me, a young, skinny – yes skinny – lad of 10. 

Standing in the basement next to the string for the light getting ready to extinguish the only thing that was preventing the Nasty’s in the basement from grabbing my skinny ass and dragging me into the hole of evil darkness. 

Really, this is what I thought. 

No, this is what I knew.

I knew that as soon as I pulled that string and turned off the light I had to make like Carl Lewis and sprint up the basement stairs, eluding the evil monsters that were trying to grab my legs from the open side of the stairway.  I knew I had to climb like Sir Edmund Hillary.  I knew I had to get up those stairs and then in one motion slam the basement door shut.  Like Goose Gossage shutting down the Red Sox.

The sprint had to be done blind because I knew that if I waited for my eyes to adjust to the blackness of the evil basement I would have already been grabbed by the Nasty’s.

So I turn off the light and begin to sprint up the stairs, a hysterical kind of sprint in which I knew the Nasty’s were right next to me.  Up the stairs I bound, quicker I thought, quicker. 

Reaching the top step I burst through the basement door into the kitchen and slammed the door behind me.  When I swear I heard it.

Leaning against the door, heart pounding in my chest, barely able to catch my breath, I heard it. 

I heard it over the sound of the rushing of blood and beating heart in my ears. 

I heard it in my soul.

I heard it in my sould and knew I would never forget the sound.

I heard what sounded like something hitting the door.

Something hitting the door hard, like it was stopped suddenly.

Like something that was chasing me up the stairs.

Chasing me up the stairs meant only one thing, I again had barely eluded the Nasty’s.

Next Chapter…..giant upright walking ants, the Nasty’s attic, water water everywhere, the strongest and most protective device ever known to mankind.


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