“Spontaneity” is for morons.


I don’t get it.


Spontaneity is elevated as some sort of rarefied human gift, and prize we should all wish to attain. People boast of being “spontaneous.” They lavish personal ads with that garbage and tout it as some great symbol of personal pride. “I’m spontaneous!” they yell for the world to hear.


I say, “BFD. Spontaneity is for idiots. You know what spontaneity is? It’s a measure of disorganization and unfocused lack of control. There is nothing good about doing something at the last minute.”


Spontaneity, praised as an auspicious personal trait, is utter hogwash.


Spontaneity, my ass. No one ever made a mark in the world without a daily plan, or more likely, even a weekly or monthly or yearly plan. Life is too broad and diffuse to be of use without a solid blueprint, or at least a rudimentary structure therein.


I’m a very buttoned-down person. My life is designed to the most minute tolerances and I leave little to impulse or chance. My life abides by rules, strategies, foresight; spontaneity is for fools who can’t admit they don’t have the brains to control, or at the very least, dictate, a minimal element of their existence.


It’s time we stopped sanctifying this awful “spontaneity” meme and recognize it for what it is: you’re a mess, as is everything you haphazardly fill your life with.



We gotta eat, right? The price of gluttony…


This kind of stuff does not alarm me.


I was sitting in the den with my mom and brother today and somehow the subject of Burger King came up. My mom told us that their fries are delicious.


“I haven’t had fast food in ages,” I replied. “It’s too unhealthy.”


As the Post reports, NYC diners can expect their restaurant and bar tabs to rise as much as 10 percent, plus tips, as restaurants seek to protect their profit margins from mandatory wage hikes; some eateries will eliminating tipping entirely – that primary source of incremental wages for thousands of food industry workers – and are hiking base prices by as much as 30%, with the money going toward higher payroll.


It’s not the cost. I can afford to buy a burger. The problem is, you can never account for the nutritional outlay when eating out, I don’t care where you eat. But fast food is the worst. It is garbage and it is best to simply never indulge. I made myself a fantastic concoction for dinner tonight of black beans (homemade) and store bought taco-seasoned ground turkey. I chopped up a jalapeno, onions and garlic, threw in some chili powder; that shit was delicious!


You can have your Big Mac or 5 Guys oil slop for all I care (and pay more for it)…I’ll take my humble kitchen self-made pleasures any day.


Let them raise the prices 50%!


I’m no fool…of course food prices are going up across the board, but still, it’s cheaper to eat at home and subsist on left-overs. We gotta eat, right?



What do the North Pole and Los Angeles have in common?


Why, for one thing, we will be sharing temperatures tonight.


Los Angeles:


la 12.30.15


And the North Pole:


The North Pole “unfroze” today, experiencing a temperature high of upwards 40 degrees Fahrenheit, a temperature that’s “unheard of” in the area during winter months, according to ABC News meteorologist Melissa Griffin. It’s usually minus 15 to minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit there at this time of year.


The thing about L.A. is, looking out the window, I don’t see any polar bears. Only Maria Lopez with a bag of Cheetos and a pack of Red Bulls.


Oh, and if anyone is wondering, much less pays attention, yes, I still do about 3-5 minutes of absolute cold shower water each morning.


Scream like a hog, bitch!



Does the NY Daily News even think before they click publish? *LOLZ* Or do they pun for the sake of punning?


This is particularly heinous.


Clarence Duwell Dear, 51, aka, tribal name of He With The Level Head, and his “roommate,” Dawn Hensley, 41, got into a Christmas Day spat last Friday.



Clarence Duwell Dear
Clarence Duwell Dear


As happens with these things in da hood, things escalated. “Got out of hand.”


And of course, he did what any man in his (soon to be shackled) shoes would do.


The fight escalated after Dear chased the woman from their home and doused her with gasoline, cops said. He then torched her, likely with a lit cigarette, and fled, officers said.


Hensley ran out of the house engulfed in flames and dropped on the street, suffering severe burns.


Los Angeles County Fire personnel brought her to a nearby hospital, where she died from her injuries.


Enter the New York Daily News. With their macabre sense of irony.



Quite heated, in fact.

Motorhead slowly becoming Motordead; in memory of Lemmy Kilmister, and a way of experiencing life that is becoming extinct.


Now Lemmy is dead.


What the hell!


Just last month, it was Phil Taylor.


Motorhead, my favorite noisemakers, are slowly disbanding for that great gig in the sky.


Lemmy Kilmister has died at the age of 70. Motorhead confirmed his death, saying their frontman passed “after a short battle with an extremely aggressive cancer.”
The band added that they “cannot begin to express our shock and sadness; there aren’t words. We will say more in the coming days, but for now, please … play Motorhead loud, play Hawkwind loud, play Lemmy’s music LOUD. Have a drink or few. Share stories. Celebrate the LIFE this lovely, wonderful man celebrated so vibrantly himself. HE WOULD WANT EXACTLY THAT.”
Lemmy’s final illness followed numerous health issues over the past few years, most recently this summer, when a lung infection forced six shows to either be curtailed shortly after taking the stage or canceled outright. In 2013, he suffered a hematoma and had been fitted with a defibrillator to correct heart problems. Throughout all Lemmy’s scares, he maintained his sense of humor, saying “Apparently, I am still indestructible” back in August.


Dude, how aggressive was this cancer that it killed you in two days?


Oh, I bet I know…Lemmy, our favorite rocker d’depravitee, was undoubtedly sick as shit for a while but just bore the pain and discomfort because so much of his life was balanced precariously in such a miserable limbo, what with the hangovers and drugs and health problems and shit. Sometimes you get so used to feeling bad that you lose the ability to differentiate between recoverable bad and deadly bad.


So long, Lemmy!


I will forever remember drunkenly being tossed about the mosh pit at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium back in the 80’s while Motorhead blew out my eardrums the day before Thanksgiving. It was the first and only time, in all my concert-hopping youth, that my ears were numb for multiple days; in fact, everything sounded like a subdued, cottony murmur for the entirety of that Thanksgiving break.


Why doesn’t degeneracy of your ilk exist any more?


Degenerates now drink champagne, wear gold, drive expensive cars and revel in douchery. You were not like this. Your depravity was unadorned and sincere and without affectation. You lived hard and died hard.


Godspeed to you, good sir.


I honor, in your death, an attitude we have sadly traded in for rebellion disguised as immaturity and pretension in today’s artificial world.




Funny, when all is said and done, my favorite lick from you was not anything you performed with Motorhead. To be sure, I loved Motorhead and its raucous sonic affront, but the one song I loved most (yes, as in my favorite child) was something you sang when you were a member of Hawkwind in the early 70’s.


RIP, you wild man!