Happy New Year!

It's 2011, New Years Eve. Been another up and down year for Leebo.

Leebo has been somewhat traumatized by the last few years.

The last few years... well, while there has been good times... have kinda sucked.

Leebo needs a good 2012.

Leebo is a man barely alive.

We can rebuild him.

We can make him better than he was.

Better. Stronger. Faster.

Well, maybe not faster, but definitely better and stronger.

See the Twitter log to the right for the quote from the Dalai Lama.

He's quite right.

2011, yer outta here.

2012, just bring it.

Happy New Year, to all you crazy humans.

Humany Wumany.

Boots to asses in 2012, folks.

Damn straight.

Bring it.

Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas, The Doctor is in.

Merry Christmas to all.

At least the Dolphins won't be blowing a 17 point lead today.

And there's new DOCTOR WHO tonight.

Brilliant.

Cheers!

It's Christmas Eve and the Dolphins still suck

Blowing a 17-0 halftime lead to the Patriots. Are you fucking kidding me?

Fuck Tood Bowles, get that stupid jabroni lame duck mutherfucker off my sideline.

Fuck him, fuck everthing he represents and fuck that empty fucking look on his fucking stupid face.

This post has been brought to you by the word "fuck".

Fuck: it's what I wish I was doing right now.

It's Christmas Eve.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

Christmas Blues

Hi.

Haven't posted anything lately. Lots has happened.

Got a new job with what potentially can be the greatest company I've ever worked for. Looks like the ship is still flying. The potential is huge, the challenges great. I plan to take full advantage and hope that finally, a gig will work out for Leebo.

Tony Sporano got fired as the coach of the Miami Dolphins. They kept Ireland. We'll see. I'm beyond skeptical.

And Christmas is coming.

I should be on top of the world and very much in the Christmas spirit, but I'm really not.

Not that I'm humbugging it, quite the opposite, I'm greatful to be employed and rockin' in the holiday.

But I'm getting over a chest cold I've had for 2 damn weeks, which affected my desire and energy to put up a tree. First time in years I haven't put one up. That sucks. That usually goes a long way toward my getting into the Christmas Spirit.

And it's warm out, another 72 degree Christmas this year. Some folk think that's great, but I find it lacking to increase what little Holiday spirit I have. I want snow. A Christmas with snow would be different. And cool.

I should be on top of the world, but quite frankly, I just don't care this year. I'm not sure why. I assure you, dear reader (assuming anyone is reading this), I am open to any Christmas magic that may be out there. I just don't think there's any out there. At least, not for me.

But I am not disparaging of anyone else soaking in the holiday. I applaud you. Maybe I can join you. Who knows?

Until then, I abide, and wait for another crummy year to be over.

2012, I am ready. Bring it. I'm tired, but bring it.

I hope for a good one. Because the last few have sucked.

Peace out.

This is a good day.

Good news down the pike confirmed.

The Dolphins actually won a game.

Great night out with My Waldo Girls at Boofest on Saturday. WHAT A GOOD TIME.

My birthday is tomorrow and I think I just got the greatest present I could ask for.

Good times. Faith manages.

A little luck doesn't hurt either.

And I don't mean Andrew Luck. Fuck Andrew Luck.

I feel like over-hugging.

Halloween, by the numbers

My Halloween was as follows:

- Spent daylight hours with pretty girl. Got nowhere. Typical.

- Went home at 5pm, watched the classic Hammer version of THE MUMMY with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing on TCM.

- Around 7pm, had dinner of chicken, potatoes , corn and lots of chocolate.

- After dinner, watched THE CROW with Brandon Lee. Awesome movie, hadn’t watched it in years.

- During the movie, had my only Trick or Treaters, 2 sets of 4 kids.

(3-4 year old sees I’m not scary from the street, sees his siblings get candy, as they are leaving he runs through my open door, into my house, stops in my living room, surveys his surroundings, sees bowl of candy, grabs a handful, flies through front door, runs away. Concerned and somewhat relieved parent appears at door and profusely apologizes while chastising child. Funny.)

- Around 9pm, flipped for a time back and forth from the NFL to WWE. The Muppets co-hosted RAW. Saw Kermit the Frog say “Woo, Woo, Woo”.

- Around 10pm, watched THE SIMPSONS TREEHOUSE OF TERROR and IT’S THE GREAT PUMPKIN, CHARLIE BROWN that I had DVRed.

- Around 11pm, went to Steak N’ Shake for milkshake. Had a craving.

- Consumed milkshake, surfed Web.

- Midnight, went to bed.

The stats:

Candy given out by me: Assorted Reeses and Milky Ways

Number of shots of rum drank Halloween night: 4

Number of beers drank: 0

Number of Trick or Treaters at my house: 8

Average number of Trick or Treaters, per year, over last 10 years: 2

Description of Costumes: 1 Snow White, 6 Princesses and one thieving Cat-kid.

Not a bad Halloween.

The Closson/Carlin Connection

I just shared some communication (that’s a big word for me) on Twitter with Kelly Carlin. For those who don’t know (and I didn’t, until tonight) she is George Carlin’s daughter. The mandatory promo for her is as follows, you can check out her website here and her podcast here.

I am looking forward to hearing her podcasts, I am linking them to my blog without hearing them, so hopefully they don’t suck. Even if they did, my blog audience couldn’t fill a bathroom of a single-wide anyway, so no harm done to either me or her. I strongly suspect I won’t be disappointed, if she’s 1/8th as funny as her father she’ll be 10 times funnier than the rest of us. Gonna be fun.

George Carlin was a great inspiration to me. I mentioned that on THE LEEBO SHOW when he passed. His greatest gift to me was to make my fragile eggshell mind QUESTION EVERYTHING. People, rules, signs, the media, my parents, your parents, other people’s parents, clergymen, military men, my Uncle Dave, your Uncle Dave…. question things. Everything.

If it wasn’t for him I might be lobotomized sheep. Instead I’m 175 lbs of I-can-think-for-myself-talkinghead-so-bring-on-yer-candy-ass. Yes, 175 lbs. I’m slightly overweight. I’m working on it.

George Carlin once chewed out my mother.

She was working for GTE when we were in California and she cut off his phone. I’m not sure of the circumstances around it, but he called GTE Customer Service and got my Mom… and proceeded to chew her out. To George’s credit, he cooled down and called back and apologized to Ma and they worked everything out.

My Mom used to tell me that story whenever we saw George on HBO or when I was listening to his albums on my Princess Leia hairdo-looking mega 70’s headphones. I listened to George, Elvis, The Beatles, The Stones, Zeppelin and Clapton albums on those headphones back in the day a lot. Oh, The Monkees too. I’m not ashamed. I’m a believer.

And yes, I said “albums”. Look it up on Wikipedia. They were glorious things.

I shared this memory on Twitter with Kelly. It got me thinking about other memories I had about George and my parents. Mostly watching him on TV and them bitching… I never could believe my parents, two of the most conservative people you ever could meet, still watched George Carlin with me. They claimed to not like him, I knew better, after all, he used words like “fuck, “goddamn”, “cunt” and at least seven others. To this day, I still don’t know what some of them mean. But coming from George, they sounded cool. Also, looking back, I can’t believe my parents could afford HBO. I can’t.

I have one more early George/Mom memory I want to share with her, I thought this would be a better forum than Twitter as I can’t share it in 120 characters or less. And make it funny, anyway.

My Mom took away my TOLEDO WINDOW BOX album just before I turned 18.

Mainly because she heard it. It blared from my room with the utmost comic authority; because I forgot to put on my giant headphones (they clamped my skull).

Also, because a week before, she had found weed in my room.

I refer to this discovery in my room as THE GREAT CATACYLSM, as a week earlier, she had found the little gold box. In it, the offending items: a pack of rolling papers, a small roach clip and a small amount of weed. I couldn’t have gotten in more trouble if contained the Queen’s vagina. (Me having any vagina was also illegal in my house back then.)

When they found it, I freaked, but I did the right thing. I blamed it all on my friend Frank, and claimed vehemently that the stash was his. I don’t think my folks bought my story. They knew me and Frank. They figured probably only half of it was his.

See, my mother actually once watched REEFER MADNESS, saw the scene where the guy goes into the closet, takes one hit off a joint and proceeds to laugh his ass off and kill everybody….and believed it.

So, she’s hears George (while she’s strategically placed) through my bedroom door talking casually about drugs….and she barges in my room and demands to know what I’m listening to. I hand over the album cover, altering between confusion, amusement and shame. In other words, I was 17. I altered between those a lot back then.

Of course, once she saw the offending cover, the connection was obvious.

For the Uninformed and Great Unwashed who are not familiar with the brilliant piece of comic genius that is this album, on it, George talks about drugs. A lot. And on the cover, he is wearing a shirt with the devil weed blatantly taunting all American and possibly some Canadian Mothers on the front.

As you might gather, this leads to some spirited conversation between my Mom and myself. Not a conversation so much, but more like two blathering idiots screeching. One: a beloved authority figure through all my life, and me: not so much.

And I will NEVER forget… NEVER, EVER, EVER forget… this particular verbal exchange between us. And to this day, it makes me smile. I wasn’t smiling then, but now, yeah. It went like this:

MOM: You will never listen to this record in my house again, this explains a lot!


ME: Huh? What are you talking about?


MOM: This is why we found…(she can’t bring herself to say it) what we FOUND! In your room last week!


ME: That has nothing to do with me listening to a record! You act like… like George Carlin sold me weed!!


MOM: Well…. HOW DO I KNOW HE DIDN’T?????


I remember just standing there dumbfounded. She was staring right through me. She knew… God love her… she knew, she had just said something completely and totally ridiculous. But she kept her straight, totally pissed-off MOM face on. And I didn’t DARE laugh.

Never mind that George Carlin and I didn’t know each other.

Never mind that George Carlin was a big star in California and I was a dumb kid in Florida.

Never mind that we were thousands of miles apart.

Never mind it was only about 2 joints worth of weed and George would have made about 20 cents on the deal (that’s 70’s currency, today, with inflation, he may have made a thousand bucks).

Never mind that George probably had better weed than me.

I didn’t DARE laugh.

Long story short, I never saw that album again. But I still had CLASS CLOWN, AM/FM, OCCUPATION: FOOLE and I continued to accumulate. I just remembered to listen to them with headphones.

George Carlin evolved and perfected his craft as a comedian and great social commentator. My Mom did the same thing, though to less acclaim.

They made me the man I am today: an unemployed blogger writing embarrassing details about his strange childhood to complete strangers while drinking vodka shots late on a Thursday worknight.

I love ya, Mom. And I love ya, George. And I’m looking forward to being entertained by and lovin’ you too, Kell.

Excelsior.

Phinished

Unbelievable.

The Dolphins led 15-0 with less than 7 1/2 minutes in the 4th quarter.

They let Tebow, who pretty much sucked the whole game, come back, throw the game into overtime and win 18-15. We made him the second coming of Johnny f-in' U.

There's so much to say. None of it good.

This Dolphin franchise needs to be completely dismantled.

I'm still too pissed to type. Losing like that. Wow.

I'm not one who's really into canning folk during the season... but Sporano, Ireland, all of them just need to go. Now.

I actually like Tony Sporano. But I'm tired of his field-goal fistpumps. And it just isn't working out, for him or us.

Let them all go.

Promise what's left of your fanbase CHANGE.

God.

Because....It's just.... beyond bad.

It's just beyond bad.

We're phinished.

Tim Tebow will Phinish our season

The Phins are 0-5 and this debacle needs to be over.

Today, the Sporano/Ireland era should be over, thanks to Tim Tebow getting his first NFL start.

I assume he will do well. All Tebow does is win. All the Dolphins do is lose. Pretty simple, if you think about it.

Ironic it will be Tebow that does us in. Bitterly. Ironic.

I'll be commenting on this and other things tonight. I haven't been on THE LEEBO SHOW for a month. Time to drink some beer, watch the Phins stink the joint up and talk about stuff that pisses me off.

This game will be just one of those things.

PHUCKING PHINS

Figure Phin-1: This man watches a team with no chemistry. At all. And he's the Coach.

I am so angry after watching another display of mediocre football by my beloved Dolphins that I can't even waste the energy to write about it.

So, this article by Dan LeBatard really covers is nicely. He nails it. He also wrote it before we lost to the Browns today. He still nailed it.

Miami is 0-3. They suck from Mangement on down.

The future is bleak. Beyond bleak.

Phucking Phins.

Any positive is welcome

Yeah, I know I haven't been on the blog. I plan on getting back in the groove.

Been Dog Days. Been down. Been verrrry Un-Dude.

I'm hoping they will be over soon. I'm working on it.

I like this song. It's a positive.

It makes me feel like the Dog Days will be over. Hence the name. Listen to it with an unpredujiced ear and listen to it LOUD.

I dig the Kabuki aspect of the video, some people may not. If you can find it live on The Internets, it kicks ass.

I could really use any positives right now. I don't have many and I'm not used to that. I'm The Leeman. I hate living in a Charisma Vaccuum.

Because I'm The Leeman.

And I need the Dog Days to be over. Soon.

I was right....

... Hitler was bad.

But The Doctor... fucking brilliant.

LET'S KILL HITLER!

At freaking last! Tonight, we have all-new DOCTOR WHO! WHO-HOO!

Tonight, the Dolphins play the Bucs in Tampa too!

But since the Bucs can't sell out their stadium, I'll be following it on the Internet and watching some cheeky, British Sci-Fi goodness. And. Loving. It.

And the episode is called LET'S KILL HITLER, an action which I can totally throw my support behind.

Hitler is a bad man. I gots to have me some Hitler killing.

I gots to have me some more Alex Kingston/River Song too. Love her.

So, beer, pizza, football, WHO. I'm in. I'm totally in.

Let's put our problems on the shelf for a night, shall we?

Jammy-dodger, anyone?

Jammy-dodgers are cool.

Leebo Goes Universal

Many thanks to The Barabarian and The Gypsy for the fun trek to Universal Studios yesterday.

It was a good romp and it eased my worried mind.

It was a positive day and seems to have created a positive vibe. Let's ride that vibe shall we?

And hopefully, like the Rock and Roll Roller Coaster, it won't get stuck mid-way through the ride.

Good vibes this week. Boots to asses. Just bring it.

The Bums Win!!!!

Jeff Bridges has put out an album, man.

The Dude sings.

And guess what? It's pretty good!

I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.

And proud we are of all of him.

In the parlence of our times.

Enjoy his Cycle.

And don't pee on the rug, man.

The Hour Of The Wolf

Greetings, Comrades.

Ever hear of the Hour Of The Wolf?

In Russian folklore, the Hour Of The Wolf is coined as the time at night when the wolf is said to lurk outside people's doors. In Swedish and Finnish folk religion it is the hour when most people die and are born. Between 3am and 4am.

It is the time, when you lay awake in bed and listen to your own heart beating. It is the time when you lay there and think. You don't sleep. You think. A lot.

Think about past regret, current regret....think about pain, think about what was, think about what could have been, think about what is, and what might be. You see where your life could have gone, but didn't.

It is the moment where all your hopes, dreams, regrets, pains, demons, and memories arrive at one time for a little party in your noggin'.

And they dance. Whether good or bad, they dance. Between 3 and 4am.

It is an hour where you are truly alone in the night. You listen to your own heart beat, and it beats just a little bit harder, a little bit faster.

The Russians would fight the Wolf at this hour with a large shot of vodka. And several little shots of vodka. In case the Wolf had cubs.



I've spent a lot of time in The Hour Of The Wolf lately.

I think about my current unemployment issues. I think about my future. And, with the recent inadvertant meeting of some folk who hurt me pretty badly years ago, I have that wound reopened to think about as well. Where my life could have gone, but didn't.

Swell.

Past present and future. Where your life went, could have gone, should have gone. One huge pile. One huge known and unknown. Upon further review. Between 3am and 4am.

Welcome to the Hour Of The Wolf, tovarisch.

Cheers.

Enemy At The Door

Hello. Been a while.

Been a while, basically, because my grand plan of kicking ass in life has taken a bit of a setback.

See, I got laid off.

Laid off from the job that hired me away from the perfectly good paying job I had before I left to go work for these buffoons.

You ever make all the wrong decisions for all of the right reasons?

Well, I can honestly say I have.

I find myself in a position where loyalty and doing right by people have landed me in a position to where I am, quite literally, in dire peril. I was loyal, I was hard-working, I was making all the right moves and doing right by the place and people that I worked for and with. And I got kicked in the nuts for it.

I haven’t blogged or posted or whatever you call it, about this until now. I've been fighting the negativity. Still am.

See, the company that I went over to from the other company I left, was not as stable as I would have liked.

Apparently, someone over Boron-ed a strawberry field costing millions of dollars to the company. Or over Moron-ed it, depending on your perspective. This, combined with other financial losses and a general lack of business acuity by individuals involved with the organization has combined to lead to my abrupt dismissal from the company.

In other words, we've lost a buncha money so get rid of the new guy. We never liked him anyway, though to be fair, I like them a helluva lot less now.

I never saw it coming. I thought if it wasn't gonna work out, I could still go at least a year.

I worked 7 days a week for 7 months for these guys. I busted ass for these guys to the point where I wasn't even sure where they ended and I began. My mental health at the end of that was beyond the phrase "burned out". And, I actually turned down a job that was offered to me to stay loyal to these guys. Wrong decison, right reason.

So, basically, they hired me away from another company just to lay me off 9 months later. And to add insult to injury, they gave me one (1) paycheck for severance. My loathing for them is beyond my writing ability.

These events have combined to put me within the rank of America’s unemployed. Of which, there are many.

That is, if you believe CNN. According to them, there are no jobs in America. Fortunately, I distrust the news media (any news media, except maybe the BBC) to the point of paranoid frenzy. If Jon Stewart says there’s no work, I’ll fucking panic. For now, I won’t. I have work to do. My job is to find a job.

Unfortunately for me, that job of finding a job is tricky, as our economy is collapsing, our so-called leaders aren't leading and basically, nobody's buying. Anything.


I can't watch the political news anymore. It's all bullshit. Politics and Lobbyists are destroying our country like a moron destroys a strawberry crop.

WE THE PEOPLE has become US VS. THEM and neither side can even acknowledge that the other side might have a decent idea about anything. Our system is broken, padded with the lobbying, the power-hungry, and the rich. And none of them gives two shits about what used to make America great: The Average Joe.

Still, I am trying my best and I'm still swinging. I'm fighting the negativity I feel for the bastards that did this to me. I'm fighting to succeed. I don't know what else to do. And with the love that my mother gave me, I'm gonna knock the devil to the floor. I hope. Cuz, he's at the damn door, that's for sure.

I'm trying to make something happen.

Again.

Sigh.

And in between, I have plenty of time.

Whoa! Geronimo!

Ha! What a cliffhanger!

You cheeky British bastards! I love it!

Your well-written, mesmerizing sci-fi silliness has got me hooked. Good show.

I love you, River Song!

And you too, Alex Kingston.

Rawr.

Fish Fingers and Custard!

Last Doctor Who before the summer break!

I'm soooooo happy I can watch this tonight.

Normally, I 'd be stuck in a hotel in North Carollina.

A hotel that does NOT get BBC America.

The BBC have doen a great job with this show this year. I'm totally diggin' it.

I love you, River Song.

Hello, Sweetie.

This pep has a piz and other oddities, including me.

The pic above is an actual pepper that got put in the reject bin at Rosemont Farms.

You can't sell a pep with a piz.

Not in Polk County, anyway.

All is well. Finally got some time off away from it all. It was much needed. I expected to be heading to North Carolina when I got back, but soem things have changed with the job and there is a way I can make a good, positive impact here at home with them, so we'll give it a shot.

I do want to say a little something about The Tampa Bay Lightning.

Grit.

That's all I have to say about The Tampa Bay Lightning. That's all that needs to be said.

Thanks for the great playoff hockey, guys. Amazing play, amazing effort. I was enthralled.

Next year.

Taking it all day by day. Have no idea what's down the pike.

How does one meet the unknown?

With guile.

What's comin'?

Only The Shadow Knows.

I gots to have my gravy

Just stopping by the blog again to say something. Something.

Florida blueberry season is over and I couldn't be happier. This has been one of the most trying seasons I have ever been through. It's been a learning curve, that's for sure. I could have done some things better. Next time, if I get a next time, I will.

But there's been some lessons learned this year that have been hard for me to digest...what greed does to some people has been a lesson in the forefront. Never had anybody threaten to spit in my face before over a price drop. Lirerally. This face. Really? This face? Really? Nahhhhhh.

And apparently more changes are on the horizon, and I'm starting to figure out that's kinda what life all is about. Only took me 40ish years to get it. And I still don't get it.

Walking thru pudding. Day-by-day. Best make good sport of what you can. We all got it comin', kid.

Been watching The Tampa Bay Lightning and really enjoying their run. Last night's Game 6 against the Bruins was most enjoyable. I was at Natalie's sports bar watching the game. With Natalie. And other folk.

We celebrated a great win. We laughed and cheered and wined and dined and played Cornhole, a game which is like Horseshoes, with bean bags. Up until then, "cornhole" had a completely different connotation for me.

We had so much fun that I glanced at my watch and it was one 1am.

And I thought "Oh shit, I'm wearing someone's watch." Because I don't own a watch.

Bring on Game 7. Very much looking forward to watching that game. I want to see Lord Stanley's Cup. In person. Again.

Lot of people are counting the Bolts out in Boston.

I don't wanna hears that bullshit.

I gots to have my gravy.

GO BOLTS! BRING THE THUNDER, BABY!!!!

A Picture Of Leebo With A Cute Puppy

Just to verify all is well, I present a picture of myself with a cute puppy.

I have plenty to say, and I will say it soon enough.

But for now, I present a picture of myself with a cute puppy.

All is well.

Aint no grave, can hold my body down....

Except a really shallow one, I mean.

I'm tired. I feel dead. I am working too damn much. I miss my life.

I know this won't last. It will end. One way or another, I will live again.

I just found this on The Internets. The Johnny Cash Project.

This is one of the coolest things I have seen. They take thousands of illustrations from all over the world and put them all together to mark out to The Man In Black.

Such creativity inspires me.

Until I have to go back to work.

Again.

And again.

Every day, always again.

I walk the line.

http://www.thejohnnycashproject.com/

Blueberries are good for you, but they are killing me...

So, I think to myself today, hey self, you haven't been on the blog in a while... and then I thought how much of a miracle of life it was that after working 103 of the last 105 days, the last three weeks of them nights, I remembers I has a blog at all.

I am currently working late evenings becaue blueberries must crush me. I have worked, literally, almost 4 months straight. It's doing wonders for my social life. Most of my friends have disowned me.

I am reminded as to why I do this whenever bills come along. But I wonder what it does to my sanity. Then I laugh and wonder what kind of benchmark I could possibly have for my sanity.

I am very tired. I am wanting a dose of life again. I am tired of all-emcompassment. There must be Leebo Time.

Time. For Leebo.

One thing is for damn sure.

This just might be the season I kill a goddamn truck driver.

That's gonna be sweet.

Or... one might kill me.

That would suck.

Produce.

You are a fickle mistress.

And a goddamned whore.

The only bar I can walk to....

As Hitchcock would say, good evening. I haven't been on the blog…though it's not for lack of trying. I'm actually writing this on my Blackberry at the Winghouse. Currently, Britany Spears' homogenized, synthesized voice blares annoyingly over, around and through my head and I marvel at…but not by much.. at how much she sounds like Chris Brown. Across the bar from me is a man with blue-ish green tattoos from his sideburns down to his hands. He is completely covered in tats, except for his face, which could use some. There are huge, black, disc-like objects embedded in his ears, each about the size of a coaster. He looks happy. He looks content with life and existence. Fuck him. I am currently in the mix of blueberry season. I have worked 89 of the last 91 days and am currently in a situation where I am working a helluva a lot more than having any fun. This is a situation I find abhorrent, except twice a month when bills are due. When, with a complete babyface-turn…it comes surprisingly in handy. I'm burned out. I'm cranky. I can feel it. I drop a pen and feel nothing but rage. My printer runs out of paper and I want to slaughter thousands. My phone rings and I want to decimate entire solar systems. I showed remarkable restraint when they announced Snookie would be at Wrestlemania. Either that or I just don't care anymore. About life. Or the WWE. There's a gaping chasm in my life. I don't know what it is, except all that "all work and no love or fun" baggage. And also, maybe, all that cool shit I don't have. Like love and fun, for example. Those sound neat. I'm just kind of coasting through the days right now. I'm feeling nothing. Really. Got some hurt. Nothing new. I'm numb. I'm tired. I feel nuzzing. Nuzzing, Lebowski. Holy crap, I'm becoming a goddamn Nihlist. I vow not to let that happen. Those folk threaten castration. They'll cut yer fucking dick off. It won't come to that, Dude. I won't let it. If I can get through the next few months without disemboweling someone with a wooden cooking spoon, I'm going for some major R+R. Walking through pudding. Jeezus. That guy across the bar has giant coasters in his ears. Fuck me. Fuh-uh-uck. Me. I so want to shove a beer in that guy's ear.

Ah, WTF

Hey. I haven't been on here lately. I'm in a strange place. Soon, I plan to stop drinking and start writing. That should be the time when I find out I write better when I drink. Shit.

I'll be back at THE LEEBO SHOW soon. At least that's the plan. It works in theory.

Based on the last post, I am pleased to report that I did find Mike Guerdon. And, quite frankly, I feel bad about the odd, and potentially alienating generic mutations one must face when one is Mike Guerdon's offspring.

It doesn't make Mikey a bad person.

It does make him insect-like.

And a potential gock.

Ya gock.

O' Brother, Where Art Thou?

Figure Grud - A: We were never near Anna Nicole.

Attention, please.

If anyone sees Mike Guerdon could you please tell him we love him (in a niz-on-fiz-ag way) and miss him?

We being me, I mean.

Come back, Grudly Mandinko.

Yer a gock.

Maybe Lord Vader was right.

Sometimes I actually think about going to the Dark Side.

I'm not going to do it, but I think about it, sometimes.

Where would my life be? Would I even be alive?

I mean, what's being a good guy done for me lately? Or ever?

I'm thinkin' that if I were evil, I'd have a lot more money, a lot more power.

I don't really crave power, but if you're evil, it's kinda mandatory.

Goes hand-in-hand with the badness, don'tchknow.

I might even have a pretty girl to talk to, one who can tell me how awesomely evil I am. Maybe she'll make me a sandwich. If I were evil, I might even get a date on a Friday night. With a harem. Of bitches.

That's right, I said bitches.

I don't usually call women that. I'm not a jerk. Or a rapper.

But I can aspire to be a jerk. Rapper is just too low, even for Evil Leebo.

If I were evil, I wouldn't care about women.

I wouldn't even treat them as people.

I wouldn't want to get to know them. I wouldn't let them in.

Since most women I've let in have hurt me anyway...that would work.

Wouldn't it?

Sigh.

It probably wouldn't.

I shouldn't think like that. I'm lucky to have what I have.

Maybe it's better being lucky than good.

I am a lucky fellow. Not as lucky as some, but luckier than others.

It must be the melancholy that's affecting my mood.

I've not been my usually bad-ass self.

Been sloppy. Been apathetic. Haven't really cared.

Manic depression is a frustrating mess.

I find my lack of faith disturbing.

And nice guys definitely finish last.

Worthless Star Trek thought

So, here's some wierd sci-fi meaningless thought.

I scan the TV, and I can catch a STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION re-run anywhere on multiple cable channels.

Yet, I can never catch the original STAR TREK anyhere on the telly.

Yet, they show the classic TREK every weeknight on free TV in rural Arkansas.

The classic episodes with the enhanced special effects.

They kick ass.

So, a skull-frag station in Arkansas can show the classic, kick-ass STAR TREK, but we can't show it anywhere on cable TV.

Food for thought.

If you were dumb enough to think such things.

Fortunately, I am.

Live long and prosper.

TROWER POWER and what-have-you

Yo.

Haven't been on the blog. Been melancholy. Dunno why.

Maybe it's post kick-ass concert bringdown.

I went and saw Guitar God Robin Trower at the House of Blues in Orlando and again at Jannus Landing in St. Pete over the weekend the very next night.

It was phenomenally successful and Trower rocked what I laughingly call my face.

I say it was successful in the fact that I achieved my objective in jamming to Trower Live on two consectutive nights. He was awesome. Again. And again.

It was less successful as certain persons that I really wanted to go with me (that I really wanted to turn on to the genius that is Trower) that were scheduled to attend... were not able to.

Their reasons are varied, including, but not limited to, influenza, prior commitments and just not being that much into me.

Still I had an awesome time with me and would attend such an event with me again, should the moment ever present itself. I like my own company. And at this rate, I'd better.

So now it's Thursday and I am melancholy.

My mother's been gone a year, the anniversary (if you could call it that) was last week.

My parent's 50th wedding anniversary is tomorrow.

My Mom's birthday is Valentine's Day.

My Dad's birthday is a week after.

Gonna need some cold ones in between.

This cheap new Walgreens beer really kicks ass.