Wednesday, December 06, 2006

When I say I love you, you say you better
You better, you better, you bet
Oooooooh oooh

I call you on the telephone my
voice too rough with cigarettes.
I sometimes feel I should just go home
but I'm dealing with a memory that never forgets


^^Quagmire is rolling into town in a couple weeks.

We're going to celebrate Festivus.

That's right, Festivus.

I don't give a shit what Kramer says about the blacks these days.

Kramer lives in L.A.

And, in L.A., it is one's civic duty as a white man in a position of power to ignite a racial powderkeg.

All you need is a microphone and a camera phone.

Or a collapsible baton, a badge and a pair of handcuffs.

Whatever trips your trigger.


The Dam:

Me and Curt, working on his tune:

(Notice, I am playing John Michael's 12-string guitar, which we hath dubbed The Chorus of Angels.)

John Michael:

(JM has been training under Duder's tutelage for the last several years. One day, Dude came to Tony and Alison and told them JM's midochlorians were off the chain, yo. So, kid's been my Padawan for a while now. 5 years later, kid's got a strat, The Chorus of Angels, those looks, numchuk skills, plus, I'm pretty sure he could grow a mustache. You throw the staggering gravitas of Duder's wisdom, splashed across the canvas as a backdrop for this picture?


Kid is gonna slay 'em.

If he isn't already.)

^^Tony and Birdy.

Check it.

That's a cute little girl.

She is three or four months older than Aden, and I have brokered a marriage between them.

As matchmaker, I collect a small fee, usually paid in pelts.

And shiny trinkets.

We shall breed them, and re-populate the human race with a people so beautiful that other species drop to their knees, clench both fists, gaze skyward and sob, "Why God? Why?"


^^ That is Kris, Tony's brother.

He's a heapin', hunka man, ain't he, ladies?

((And I state this with a nearly unblemished record of heterosexuality.))

(((Nearly, you say?)))

((((Indubitably. It was 1979. I was eleven. The soundtrack for Saturday Night Fever was playing on the turntable.

And, dammit, I danced.

I danced in blissful ignorance.

Ignorant of the fact that dance would one day, in 1984, result in a fiery confrontation with a switchblade-wielding dude in a white leather jacket with the sleeves pushed up.

In a parking garage.

He would open his switchblade and wave it around in front of my face.

While I stood my ground in my red leather jacket with shoulder pads, and enough chutzpah to fend off that street tough, through dance.

So, yes, dammit. Nearly.

And screw you for judging me.))))


I want those feeble minded axes overthrown
I'm not into your passport picture, I just like your nose
You welcome me with open arms and open legs
I know only fools have needs, but this one never begs

I don't really mind how much you love me
Ooh, a little is alright
When you say
come over and spend the night

When I say I love you, you say you better
You better you better you bet


^^^Alison and Vaughn.

Two things you need to know: (1) If you would like to someday marry your daughter to this young and, surely to be quite virile, strapping lad, I will require a herd of at least 30 sheep, and 4 camels as a dowry, and; (2) I'm gonna need the camels up front, kinda like earnest money.

So email me at joemilitello33(((((at))))))))yahoo diggity dot com.

Tipping is encouraged.


Here is the first two verses and the chorus of Curt's song, as done by a stripped-down Mitten.

It's only a minute and a half.

Check it and give Curt from the Dam his freakin' props for writing an awesome tune:

I hope you enjoy it.

(((((((It's dark on purpose. Save your email. Voyeurs.)))))))

((((((((Think about that with a fully-operational Death Star lineup of the Mitten, with Tony in lederhosen playing the harmonica, Aden doing the Frankenstein dance, Bells playing drums with brushes and Carp on percussion, just waving his credit cards in the air like he just don't care.))))))))


I know I been wearing crazy clothes
And I look pretty crappy sometimes
But my body feels so good
And I still sing a razor line

And when it comes to all night living
I know what I'm giving
I've got it all down to a tee
And it's free.

There are more pictures, but you're just gonna have to wait.

Takes for freaking ever to upload and resize pictures.

There are a lot of ins, a lot of outs, a lot of what-have-yous.

Lotta strands in Duder's head.


Don't wanna walk and talk about Jesus
I just wanna see his face

Gettin' some pictures loaded from the Wisconsin trip & a video of Curt's song. (Yes, they are intentionally dark.)

We need some more snow around here.

Big Sky is only 10% open.