Disclaimer

 With an upcoming birthday and one that I thought I would never make, I'm addressing several issues that have plagued me for ... well ... life. I am the bastard son of a son of a bitch. You see and the way my familial connections figure, I got my mom pregnant to annoy my old man and fuck up his life. Same applies with my mother. I got my mom pregnant to annoy my old man and fuck up my mom's life. Problem with my telling this oh so familiar tale of post war Amerika, there are NO relatives left alive to check with to get their spin on my account. So ... a reader will have to take my word for all (any?) of this. My old man was a 'player' and my mom fell for that and as a story that's as old as human existence goes, here I am now oh so many years later and lives later and I'm still here and the remainder of an Amerikan tale of fornication, horror, war horror, and lust in the dust is the prototypical tale of just about any Amerikan boomer child born in the wake of World War II the really big war. So much death with alcohol fueled post traumatic stress disorder and growing up in post war 1950's Amerika living the suburbanite dream. I'm going to reveal more sordid tales of boomer existential bullshit when the big birthday actually arrives. Won't be long now ... mere days away. Now for Wednesday machine art and won't someone be kind enough to cue the camel.

laddy -

breck -

citrus -

biodome -

french -

chorus -

flash -

watch -

when measuring the length of existence all the good times, bad times, all the while life is one day at a time. go figure ... life happens at the speed of ... damn ... if life doesn't go by lightning quick. 😏