Their lips are brittle and barren. Musicians who won’t just burn out.

They’ve “aged” well, I suppose. Who am I to ridicule anyone for getting old, or worse yet, looking old. It happens to the best of us, if we’re lucky. The option to getting old isn’t so wonderful either.


Dayum!  Remember The Go-Go’s?

If you don’t, their 40th anniversary tour should serve to remind you if you’re into the senior set type of thing.


The Go-Gones….


Tragically, this is not a unique route; aging musicians always find the shameless need to reassemble their withered bodies on inconsequential stages in order to faintly relive their glory days all the time. But it’s never, never the same. It cannot be.  This makes me uneasy. I dread it when musicians from my younger days trollop around in front of crowds when they should be chilling somewhere nice and warm with their grandkids. It’s wrong, man. These musicians need to hang ’em up and quit making a mockery of their vibrant days. As much as I’d enjoy it, you’re not likely to see me running around acting like I’m 23 now.  You won’t find me in a large Hollywood nightclub blasting 80’s house music while I flail around on the dance floor drunkenly pretending to know how to dance.  Those days are long behind me, and rockers in their 50’s and 60’s need to accept this too. Heavy metal band reunions are the absolute worst, cringe-inducing spectacle. Something about the heavy metal motifs from 30 and 40 years ago simply do not age well.


Well, “heavy metal” in a manner of speaking…


I do not like the inability of some people to grow old graciously. Fighting the drumbeat of time, they vainly grasp the vacuous props of youth and look stupid for it.

Each and every one of us must find succor in memories of our pasts and live contentedly in the present, I say.






The physiognomy of a child predator (oh, and the tell-all adult male Disney signaling).

Liberal ball-licking douche, Joel Davis, once prided himself on gratuitous shovelfuls of virtue signaling by heading and founding organizations whose ostensible, and very public, aim, was preventing sexual abuse and violence against children.


Joel Davis, a Columbia University student who was nominated for a Nobel Prize for his attempts to end sexual violence, has been accused of attempting to sexually exploit children. The Columbia Spectator reports that Davis was arrested in New York City on June 26. He is accused of possessing child pornography on his phone. In addition, authorities said Davis admitted to the sexual abuse of a 13-year-old boy.

In 2015, Davis was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize after he helped to found Youth to End Sexual Violence. The Spectator report says that Davis was once the chairman for the International Campaign to Stop Rape and Gender Violence.


The marshmallow-faced Davis fell prey to a law enforcement sting.


Prosecutors say despite his involvement in the organization, Davis exchanged text messages with undercover agents over the course of several weeks earlier this month.

Davis allegedly told the agents that he was sexually interested in children of all ages. He is accused of sending the agents sexually explicit photographs of infants and toddlers, including some of the children engaged in sex acts with adults.

The 22-year-old allegedly arranged to meet the nine-year-old daughter of one of the undercover agents and with the purported two-year-old daughter of the officer’s girlfriend.

He allegedly went into detail in the text messages about what sexual activities he intended to engage in with the children.

Prosecutors say Davis repeatedly asked the undercover agent to take naked and sexually explicit pictures and videos of the children and to send them to him.

Following his arrest, Davis allegedly admitted to officers that he had abused a 13-year-old boy in the past and that he kept child porn images on his phone.


Davis’s face says it all. Chipmunk cheeks and creepy sanpaku eyes and ingratiating choppers overburdening a weak smile. This dude looks like the kind of person who revels in dual existences of steaming virtue shellacked over a mound of mordant shit.


He’s with her…if “her” is single digits


Beware the bachelor cherub who finds all manners of reason and justification to clutter his life with children and their “causes.”


Having started an organization that pushed for the end of sexual violence, Davis displayed the highest degree of hypocrisy by his alleged attempts to sexually exploit multiple minors,’ FBI Assistant Director-in-Charge William F. Sweeney Jr. said.

‘As if this wasn’t repulsive enough, Davis allegedly possessed and distributed utterly explicit images of innocent infants and toddlers being sexually abused by adults.’


If I believed in the Christian paradigm of heaven and hell, I could easily accept that there is a special place in hell for adults who sexually abuse infants and toddlers. That is an entirely different level of dark spiritual sickness that can ever be excised from a person’s soul. There is no attrition to be granted to such fiends.

But mostly, it’s about Disney. Grown men and Disney are a disconcerting union of masculinity and nefarious submissiveness. Beware such men.


Guilty by reason of chickenshit.

I just spent a combined 11 hours on airplanes over the past couple of weeks.  Not my ideal state of “blissful” existence.

I hate flying.

Really, do not enjoy flying the friendly skies, whatsoever. I’m white knuckle, baby! A raging pussy once you get me into the tubular rocket to foreign lands…but I still endure the jet-fueled dissolution of my psyche for the payoff is always great, and my rational mind tells me it’s OK, it’s OK (repeat x 20). Really. Air travel is safe and dependable and…fine.

Yes, sure.  Tell the phobic all the reasons his phobia must submit to the rationality of logic. Tell the phobic exactly why his phobia is a phobia: only.  Tell the phobic to not be phobic through reason.

You’ll get nowhere.

Coincidentally, a day after I landed happily at LAX, and am now ensconced firmly on safe ground, I spied this video.

Let me say that the foul-tempered frame of mind that possesses me on any airplane flight is downright fiendish and murderous. On edge, I enter a zone of absolute wild vigilance. If I had to share a plane with that kid for 7 hours I would not be sitting here writing this for I suspect I would be in a jail cell awaiting a court hearing.

Guilty your honor!

Blogging from the throes of paradise.

When traveling, the modern civilization dweller’s greatest pretension and illusion of freedom, there are two types of people.

There are those who seek to insulate themselves from the experience as much as possible.  They are smugly removed from the raw elements of their travel and they revel in these “shields” from reality and there they remain complacently content in the hermetically sealed snow globe of exotic “existence.”  They witness from afar behind the bars of their self-imposed cages.

And there are those people who seek to get their hands dirty and experience travel for the guttural, brutish business that it is.  They do not seek shields.  They have no barriers, no insulation, from their exploration;  they wallow in the murk of distant lands and foreign experiences.  They embrace the unsure and the filth, and are drawn not to the flash, but the scrum.

And everyone else rests somewhere between these two extremes..