Wednesday, December 29, 2004

So I'm just sitting here waiting for some client to show up and it's after Christmas and I have a cold. I think this guy got busted in Williamson County with coke. Here's a word to the wise- if you're gonna do coke, it's worth making the drive to Travis County. In Georgetown you're a satanic infidel if you get caught with coke. In Austin, if you get caught, you're just a schmuck who didn't know how to keep the party under control.

It has (grudgingly) come to my attention that some of the people who have been soiling my blog with their comments may warrant a word or two of introduction (in order to deprive them of the safety of anonymity, if nothing else).

Jeff Wilson, aka CrackBass, is a former Travis County prosecutor, husband of the sometimes feisty but mostly mild-mannered Mandy, and my current neighbor. Jeff's an ornery little chap who enjoys most forms of alcohol and loud music. He also enjoys hairbrained home improvement projects and plays bass in my aforementioned musical experiment group, Crack.

Lee Thweatt is a former high school and college roommate, retired (or resigned or whatever) Marine, father of 2 1/2, and husband of the lovely and talented Sarah Duncan Thweatt. We're all backing Lee as the next great hope for bringing the Democratic Party back into favor in Texas. Before you laugh at that, talk to Lee. With our help, he's gonna make it happen, folks.

Ryan Steans is my semi retarded adopted brother from Phoenix. He spends most of his days running around his back yard in his helmet, trying to pet his helper dog, Melbotis, who fears Ryan and spends his days fleeing from his clumsy master. Ryan is married to Jamie, who didn't realize the extent of Ryan's disability when she married him. She spends her days trying to coax Ryan into taking baths and using the toilet in the house via the promise of shiny Superman toys and funny books.

These are the introductions for now. I have heard rumblings that there may be other people out there surveying the blog, who are not posting comments (Eddie and Gary, I'm looking in your direction). This isn't a site for freeloaders, so chime in. Consider it the cost of admission. If I find ya skimpin', I'll come to your house and bust your kneecaps.

Also this:

Does this mean that this earthquake is going to make those of us who survived it live longer? Less time in the day = more days for Jason to live through.


erin boyd said...

Thank you, Jason, for providing an "outhouse" as you put it.

What's with "anonymous" comment leaving on your blog? Do you know these people? Are they afraid or ashamed?

Otherwise, I'm trying to mastermind a way to capitalize on the "oh god, it's Armageddon! The Earth is spinning into the sun! We're all gonna die!" phenomenon, not unlike blackmarket Y2K toilet paper and toothppaste sales. I need something better than bumperstickers and T-shirts. Any suggestions?

Also, here's a link for CRACKBASS. You guys should do an intervention on him.

CrackBass said...

First of all, I realize that Steanso is 6'6" and i am only 5'5", but i still do not like being referred to as "little". Unless of course, you are referring to my penis, and in that case, there isnt much i can say, i guess. Secondly, saying i enjoy "most forms of alcohol" is stretching the truth. I no longer enjoy malt liquors, gin, and especially ouzo. Thirdly, if you wanna call Mandy "mild-mannered", you should have seen her at Festivus after you took half the party to your house. Boy was she hot. Oh yeah, she's also a hell cat in the bedroom - mild-mannered my ass. Otherwise, you have aptly described me. Except you omitted that I am in love with Ryan Steans a great deal.

CrackBass said...

Wait..."current neighbor"? Are you moving? Am I? Is one of us dying? Or are you just (correctly) assuming that, given enough time and opportunity, that I will post something on here that will get me in so much trouble with "mild-mannered mandy" (aka P) that she will kick me out? Out on my ass? But you didn't think about that, did you? In the end it's easier to think about yourself than it is to think about CrackBass.

J.S. said...

Uh, Erin, I think the most readily obvious marketing answer in the wake of this tradgedy might, in fact, be surfboards (Surf Tsunami? Anyone...? Anyone...? If there is a hell, I've definitely got my ticket...).
Also, yes, Crackbass is definitely in need of an intervention. If only it weren't so difficult to get him to sit still long enough for a conversation without a cocktail in his hand...

J.S. said...

Also, I said current neighbor b/c there's no tellin' when I might skip town (or when you might be dragged from your home, kicking and screaming in a straightjacket).

CrackBass said...

As is my understanding of the Tsunami (a word which, along with Phuket, brings great delght to Sr. Bloom), there is no surfable wave, but rather an ebb and flow sort of thing. So, the Tsunami Surfboard is out. But, perhaps, based on the success of the sueprmodel, we could sell a Tsunami-proof diet/beauty product. Market it this way: "Mother Nature/God/the Devil/(your God/god of choice) won't take you if you are beautiful like (insert supermodel here). If you use (our product - Tsunami Fatmelter, or whatever) you needn't fear those awful Tsunamis, and can vacation without fear. Let (your choice of deity) take the fat, ugly kids, while you hang out in safety, blessed/protected by (deity of choice) in a beautiful palm tree."

The League said...

I have to words for Erin: Water Wings

Okay, now I feel a little bit like I'm going to hell.

And by the way, we're so proud Jason is out on his own. Sure, he's still incontinent and when he got that job sorting forks at The Black-Eyed Pea, I knew he was ready to face the world like a big boy. And lookee, he's got himself his own little web-page.

Soon we might be able to move him up to big boy pants. It's too bad that everytime we try to let him wear big boy pants he takes it as an opportunity to throw his messy doo-doo at the train at Zilker Park (although his squeals of delight make it almost worthwhile).

J.S. said...

When did this comment section become a forum for hate? Feel the love vibes, my "special" little brother!

The League said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
The League said...

Hate? Oh, you silly-willy! I was doing nothing but pouring on the encouragement!

It's not every fecalpheliac who gets a second chance at life. We are so proud of you. There were times when mother would cry herself to sleep that you couldn't learn your ABC's. And Pa would just sigh, look to me say, "Every family's got to have their moron. You gotta be glad it's your brother and not you, I suppose."

But even when I found you drinking that bucket of glue and the time you got that breadstick all the way up your nose, I knew you had potential. Heck, even that time that horse kicked you in the head six times... I still saw that twinkle which made me see the great things you maybe could do if horses would quit kicking you in the head.

Now, I would remind you that big boys don't have to tell stories, and you can tell all these nice people about your job at The Black-Eyed Pea.

J.S. said...

How could you hear Mom and Dad's comments about me with your helmet on? Or did all of these things come to light later in life during your group therapy sessions for your public urination fetish?

The League said...

I only wore the helmet during the day to keep your far flung poop from hitting me in the head. When mom and dad put you back in your cage at night, it was usually safe enough to take the helmet off. I'm osrry they lied to you about the group therapy sessions. I was really seeing a shrink to help me get over the trauma of having a brother tossing poo at me.

But, hey... I don't want to get you down! Chin up!

Sigmund Bloom said...

the best way to capitalize on the tsunami is clearly a series of "bukkake tsunami" videos.