If I ever run for office, I will build my entire campaign around one simple idea: I believe that during the course of your life, you should be able to legally kill one person. This will be called "a freebie".

There will be rules and limitations, of course. You can't kill anyone under the age of fifteen; if you do, you're disqualified, and will proceed straight to jail. Also, you can't kill with complicated chemical or machine-based weapons (including guns and explosives); however, simple handmade weapons (like clubs, spears, and cudgels) are totally acceptable. Weapons based upon simple machines (wedges, pulleys) are also encouraged. Killing someone with bare hands would be highly esteemed, and totally something to brag to friends about.

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Okay, so apparently they liked my blog and they've asked me to write another one.  This was a little scary for me cause it was my first ever "deadline" for a blog, and I kinda made it one day.  So, yeah, scary.  And this one was less inspired and more just hardcore sitting down and forcing myself to write.  So, I'm really interested in what you guys have to say. 

Thanks!

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I AM a narcissist. Because besides loving to watch myself exist, I feel so difficult to resist. And on top of this, have you seen my hips?

I hate my lips, i hate my lips, i hate my lips.

It's sick the way I walk, try to talk. Above all my graceful curves, while I saunter, clear the hall--it shan't be me who takes the fall, after all.

I'm so small, i'm so small, i'm so small.

My eyes are tired. But that doesn't seem to stop their glow, even so! Come after me and I'll say no, it's just for show. It's all below.

I can't grow, i can't grow, Can't I go?

 

*Forewarning*

The following article contains direct references vulgarity, racism, hate, and vague references to something that will probably never touch your lives directly. That being said, try to remember that the author does not advocate nor encourage Hate in any of it's manifestations... I'm a Lover...

In other words, the opinions and views expressed in the following post do not necessarily represent the  opinions and views of Crazy Rockwell.

Plus, I'm drunk.

*/Forewarning*

 

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Sex. Violence. Nudity. Potty-language. Sex. These are only five examples of how filmed entertainment is destroying America and turning our children gay, or worse, Mexican. This must not come to pass. The multi-billion dollar media and entertainment industry must be held accountable for showing us and our innocent, helpless children all these disgraceful things that we pay good money to see. Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, and evening TV? Sex and violence, that's what. Well, we have just three words for the sexy, violent media: hasta la vista, baby. We're mad as hell and we're not going to take it anymore. We, The Committee To Design A New Code Of Ethics For The Entertainment And Media Industries, (or T.C.T.D.A.N.C.O.E.F.T.E.A.M.I.) in order to tell more people what they can and can't do and with greater authority, do hereby enact these Twelve Commandments -- twelve steps, really -- for media sobriety, and demand that anybody, making anything anywhere with moving pictures, with or without sound, strictly adhere to them or face our collective indignation and televised outrage*. Amen.

 

*televised outrage only available on AM radio and Fox News Channel

 

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Who wants a moustache ride? ¹
Mother of G-d. ²
Is she HOT? ³
Kyle's mom's a bitch and she is a stupid bitch. ⁴
Your mom goes to college. ⁵
You're so money baby and you don't even know it. ⁶
Follow your heart that's what I do. ⁷
America, Fuck Yeah! ⁸
Saaayy CarRamrod ⁹
Hey, careful, man, there's a beverage here! ¹⁰
Smmmmother me in gravy you big dirty man. ¹¹

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A collaborative poem by open mic participants:

 

 

Sam:
It must have been fate that Elad the Great started Open Mic
Which Elates all of his Mates at Eddie’s here tonight
He’s done his part to make the web a place to voice your thoughts
So people can read and conceive instead of letting their minds rot
He’s shown us we can use the net as something powerful and bitchin’
For other things then finding porn to watch and choke the chicken
We think he’s Bomb we love his dreds and his innovation
So we each wrote a stanza to show our appreciation

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About a week ago, I received a text message on my phone.  Pretty boring, right?  However, I don't have a text messaging plan, so every message I get charges me an extra 15 cents.  If it's someone I know,  it's mildly irritating, but at least there's a point to it.  This time, I was txtmsg'd spam.  Bad enough my email inbox gets spam, but for me to have to pay for it...!

So I got to thinking.  Okay, everything happens for a reason.  If G-d didn't want it to happen, it wouldn't happen.  

So why would G-d send me spam?

This time, it was garbled stock tips.  A month ago, it was picture-messages of porn.  I could make sense of the porn (don't ask--and whatever you're thinking, it's most likely wrong).  But stock tips?

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1. I think the real reason girls wear tight pants is to make it harder for guys to take them off.

2. Am I going to remember and appreciate all the wonderful people I met in the last month, year, years in Arizona when I leave?

3. I have so many personalities, I'm starting to forget who I am. There's Manic Elad, Depressed Elad, Yetzer Hora (Animalistic) Elad, Yetzer Tov (G-dly) Elad, there's Hitting On Girls Elad, there's Online Elad, there's Balanced Elad, there's Crazy Elad. If I found Plain Ol' Elad, would he just be added to that list?

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I want to meet the man from Nantuckett,
Visit Urugay,
Swim in Lake Titikaka,
And travel to Uranus.

I'll always let you know that your epidermis is showing,
See a cow and yell "moo",
Try to get the big rig driver to honk at me and
Order French fries at even the nicest of restaurants.

I'll always chuckle at the words "hard", "bulbous", and "cheeks",
Encourage my  friends to join the Pen 15 Club,
Refuse to eat choclate pudding and carrots for similar reasons,
And mix all the soda's together at the convenience store.

I'll always laugh at  boys named  Dick and Peter,
Call every lil boy I meet buddy, champ, chief, or sport,
Snicker at people that masticate their food,
And marvel at G-d's infinite sense of humor when I see a standard poodle.

I love finding the fun and looking for the funny.
I love it so much that I will marry it.

 

 

You know how people are always saying that you judge yourself by a more ridged set of standards than others do? I guess I've always ascribed to this theory, but only really applied it to small things like appearance or performance. An encounter with an old friend made me rethink this assumption.

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His name was Jean, not like the pants. If you were to say "John" without moving your mouth or tongue, that is how you would say his name. You could probably say it if you were drunk too, or if you were French, or both, but since he lived in Baltimore, everyone called him Jean, like the pants, unless they were drunk. That is why he got in the habit of introducing himself as J.P. The "J" was for "Jean" and the "P" was for "Pierre." Jean-Pierre Square: J.P. Square. When he was talking to the pretty girl on the first day of class, he would say "Uhh...hi. My name's J.P." She would nod imperceptibly.

"So, um...are you a theatre major?" he would press a bit more. "Or are you, like, just taking it for fun?"

"Square, Jean?!" A moment passes. His eyes falter, but he keeps grinning.

"Here," he would say through clenched teeth. He was a theatre major, he could hold a smile. She couldn't. She tried, but she couldn't stifle it. She wasn't a mean or insensitive person; she just wasn't a theatre major.

"Pff...Pfff..hm hah!"

The rest of the semester was very awkward between the two of them.

 

-o-

 

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I love America & capitalism. 

I love to point out only half-jokingly the reason "the terrorists" hate America.

It's not ideology, infidels, or whatever.

Basically, it's about QT.  The "terrorists" wish they had the ability to choose from a selection of 40 sodas and mixers.  52ozs of Diet Mtn Dew mixed with Frozen orange cream is freedom in my mind.  The terrorists hate us b/c they only got one thing to drink : (Pause)

 It's called Haterade ,it's the non-alcoholic and they got it all on tap. 

But, yeah it's not just QT .  It's Costco.  C'mon with its  samples, liberal return policies and 1.50 foot long  hot dogs.  G-d bless Costco and G-d Bless America!

So getting away from commercialism for a second, there are so many other seemingly small things in life that are awesome. 

Seriously. (Pause)  Some things I find awesome in no particular order or listing of importance  are:

Little kids in tuxedos,

Water balloon fights,

Grenadine based beverages ( Pause) you know shirley temples, roy rogers etc)

Free refills,

Good looking girls wearing wife beaters,

Popping packing bubbles,

Getting blackjack.

I love all this stuff and I love the internet too!

Yeah. I love the internet! And it's got nothing to do with porn.

 Believe it or not there are non-porn related sites on the internet.   (pause)

Yeah it came as a surprise to me as well.

I spend so many of my waking hours surfing the internet looking  through facebook, theonion, the drudgereport, and wikipedia.   (pause)

I really love wikipedia.  I don't really know how we knew the answers to the most random things in life before wikipedia.  I do know that I am thankful everyday for all I've learned browsing wikipedia.

Did you know for instance

That Ice-t's real name is Tracy Marrow?

That penny farthings are the names for those old humoungous bicycles with the big wheel in the front.

That Angola is in Africa and not S. America?

That I share a birthday w/ Vladimir Putin, John Mellencamp, Yo Yo Ma and Toni Braxton. We were all born October 7.

That cleveland steamers, soggy biskets, passing the cracker, rusty trombones and donkey punches aren't nearly as innocuous as they sound.  Not even close.

That birds fly in flocks, wolves travel in packs, and porcupines move in prickles.  I'm totally serious prickles.  Also sadly porcupine meat is enjoyed in some reginos of Italy and Vietnam.

Thank you wikipedia, and ouropenmic for enriching the internet and my life as well.

And thank you all for listening to me, or at least pretending to.

 

 

 

 

 

I live next door to a group home that houses 5 developmentally challenged young men. 

I stopped over there this morning with a fruit basket, two boxes of Thin Mint girl scout cookies and a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

I could hear noise coming from inside the home, but after ringing the doorbell twice  I decided to go around to the backyard to see if I could find any one.

Walking in to the yard, Bryan, one of the home's caretakers was leading the guys in some early morning calisthenics. 

"Hey guys," I said, " Just wanted to stop by and bring some snacks to help celebrate Autism Awareness Day.  Happy Autism Awareness Day everybody!"

Nothing.  No response from any of them.  No one even looked in my direction.

Joseph, one of the men living in the house, started loudly singing the opening song to "The Jeffersons". 

Bryan obviously realizing that he was about to lose control of the exercise class turned in my direction and said "Yeah. Thanks a lot for bringing the snacks over.  They'll definitely enjoy them during movie night.  Would you mind just putting them down on the patio table so I can take them in after  class? Oh yeah and Happy Autism Day!"

Leaving their house withJoseph now screaming "WE FINALLY GOT A PIECE OF THE PIE!!!",  I couldn't help feeling  dejected.  None of these guys were even aware that today was a day to party.

Did you get your tickets yet? 

To what?

The gun show of course. 

As you can see I don't wear sleeves anymore.

My biceps are just too monstrous.

Monsters.

Semis.

Boulders.

Stallions.

Jackhammers.

Samurais. 

 Kegs.

Monoliths.

Widowmakers.

These are just a few of the names people have used to describe my guns.

I  prefer pythons. 

Or  cannons. 

Or bazookas. 

Or dirigibles. 

Or Missles.

Or Bengalese tigers.

You want a piece of me?
Step off or
I will break you.

I'm hitting the gym 7X a week.

Curl.

Lift.

Flex.

Pose.

Repeat.

Which way is the beach?

Let me show you while I flex my guns.

Check me out. 

I'm cracking walnuts with my arms.

I'm Curling volksenwagen beetles.

My guns are mountains of muscly, sinewy striations of perfection.

So are you  going to give my arms a Squeeze or

am I going to have to give you a squeeze?