Panamint Springs '04

An exchange overheard at the front desk on the second afternoon -  Housekeeper - "Holy Christ, did you know they have a POOL in #5 ???"  Front Desk - "You'd better bring your scuba gear."

There's always lots of flies at Panamint Springs. They land on your food and you shoo them away. You wouldn't expect flies in Death Valley. It's probably because of the pig. They had two pigs here at the compound. The mother pig died shortly after last years party of an unknown venereal disease. We should have been prime suspects but somehow we were welcomed back. The remaining pig is blind but he can still draw flies. You wave them off your dinner but they come right back. That's why some flies skip your picnic and go straight for the pig shit. Nobody ever shoos you away from pig shit.

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This party - we are all aware - will not be truely legendary until somebody dies. They tried to kill Father Luke on the way in when the ragtop VW Rabbit he was riding in went haywire at 85 miles an hour and rolled four times across the desert. Father Luke saw them coming though and had the prescience to be wearing a helmet. A WWII German-style helmet, just to rub it in.

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The only problem with eating large amounts of mushrooms is that there is no antidote should your circumstances change drastically. The police said they suspected that some of us were using other substances other than alcohol. Perhaps it was Becker in Leiderhosen in the middle of Death Valley sun. Maybe it was the people living in the tree. Or the guy on the Razor Scooter in a speedo and Japanese headband.

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But Billy is a fireman and knows how to talk to Heroes. "What kind of asshole throws a party all the way out here anyway?" they asked him. "Oh, he's back there somewhere." he said. And I was back there somewhere as a sandstorm raged with 75 mph gusts, tearing parts of the buildings down. I watch a twenty foot piece of aluminum siding hurling down the highway while Fat Men from Wisconsin shotgunned beers and my wife saw dead people and my bad trip finally broke like a fever.

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For those still confused - Gay Cousin Eric isn't really gay. We only call him that to mask the fact that he's a Jew.

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I can't remember enough of the rest of the event clearly enough to describe it. Nobody can. Thats the point. But for those who were there, Thank You - especially the Alaska Contingent - and we will see you next year. Here's some pictures for Mortimer - you were sorely missed.

Doug Vs. Tanya

Bullshit, I cry! Tonya Harding by decision?!? This will be known as boxing's darkest day. Only a few weeks ago, Sen. John McCain introduced a bill to have federal oversight of professional boxing. As a staunch Libertarian I am against government involvement in any private matter but it's this kind of grave injustice that sends people scrambling for legal intervention. In fact, I have no doubt that this fight - although unsanctioned - will be the catalyst for McCain's bill to pass in the House of Representatives and become law. 1. Unnatural Bloodshed Although I can not prove it, I now believe that Tonya may have had her bleedy-time, giving her unfair advantage. As any scientist or man of medicine will attest, a woman during her shameful time has the strentgh and disposition of an angry retard. The only way to stop them in this altered state is to remove their head. Giving credibilty to this theory - my wife was in her corner and had spent most of that day with her. Menstruation is much like SARS or the Black Death in that it spreads among women like an airborne virus. Coming home after the fight, my wife was bleeding like Budd Dwyer's suicide. This could have easily started with Tonya, then to my wife and then spread like pox to the Juggie judges, slanting their already-suspect abilities of reason. 2. I forgot my cup. Defenseless testicles are a distraction just strolling around the flea market, much less when you are competing in The Fight Of The Century. Add heat to the mixture and now you have real trouble. My dangling sack slapping from one thigh to other - who can concentrate on foot-work? Remember kids - always wear underwear. Your dick will never get longer but your balls will. 3. I was in a no-win situation. I recently saw an HBO Real Sports episode that featured a high school wrestler from Georgia that had no arms and no legs. Just little nubs that allowed him to scurry like a cockroach across the parquet floor. He learned to wrestle (Anyone with no limbs must learn to wrestle to some extent or otherwise you'd just come up on them and fuck them at will) using his stumps and neck and was lauded by the show for his courage and determination. What Bryant Gumbel failed to recognize was the predicament of his opposition - lose you're embarrassed, win you're an asshole. I wound up in the same situation. Besides, this is a True American Hero. Say what you will about Tonya Harding but the attack on Nancy Kerrigan remains the sole and only interesting event of any kind in the entire history of skating, on the ice or off. The skating world should bow down before her and kiss her gnarled feet - because the moment that Harding's primate goons grabbed a shrieking, blubbering Kerrigan and pounded on her with a pipe is the solitary time ever that skating could be viewed as anything resembling "sport". 4. Over-Conditioning Although I had no intentions of preparing physically for the bout, we still had to film a training segment for the show. This included shots of me running up a hill - which I had to do twice and a scene of me doing sit-ups. I can barely do the one sit-up necessary to get me out of bed in the afternoon much less act out a series of them. We didn't have the budget to have this digitally enhanced so with the help of thin wires I was able to get a sit-up on film but not without it taking it's toll on my body. My muscles were still blown out from this at fight time and I blame Rogan. While Joe was given the official title of "trainer", my real inspiration and game plan came from singing-sensation and country idol Kenny Rogers - specifically his song "Coward of the County".         Ev'ryone considered him the coward of the county.         He'd never stood one single time to prove the county wrong.         His mama called him Tommy, the folks just called him yellow,         But something always told me they were reading Tommy wrong. It's as though Kenny was speaking right to my soul. In the song, the Gatlin Boys (read: Tonya Harding) come and raped ole Tommy's girlfriend Becky, sending him spiralling into a violent rage that he cannot hold back. Listen as he gets his revenge.         The Gatlin boys just laughed at him when he walked into the barroom.         One of them got up and met him halfway 'cross the floor.         When Tommy turned around they said, "Hey look! ol' yellow's leavin'."         But you coulda heard a pin drop when Tommy stopped and locked the door.         Twenty years of crawlin' was bottled up inside him.         He wasn't holdin' nothin' back; he let 'em have it all.         When Tommy left the barroom not a Gatlin boy was standin'.         He said, "This one's for Becky," as he watched the last one fall. You see, there is no mention of Tommy "training". No running up a hill, no sit-up, not even a Vodka-Red Bull. Tommy was smart here not to over-condition. My doing absolutely nothing for 37 years was the optimum training regimen required and I befouled it. Had my corner people listened to me and Kenny, I could have beaten three Tonya Hardings and no one would ever call me yellow again. 5. Sobriety For this I blame myself. I had no more than four beers in me before the fight which may have thrown me off-kilter a speck. Any long-term suicide drinker will tell you that, at the point you make the Senior Tour, you will be in an alcohol-as-instinct mode where drunkenness is your Alpha state and anything less is running on 3 cylinders. Boxing sober is like wrestling without arms and legs. Or something. Let me get one thing straight - I will fight Tonya Harding again - as the saying goes - anytime, anyplace. Except early in the morning when I'm coughing a lot and haven't had my coffee. Even if I went in knowing I would lose I would still do it - if for no other reason than to help extend her 15 minutes closer to eternity. Sure, she's milking her infamy to unprecedented lengths and she should be applauded for it. That's what America - what Life - is all about. Finger-fucking the system any way you can to avoid winding up as meat at a GM plant, building shit you can't afford for people you hate. Honest Work is for the onionheads - saving up for Saturday night so they can boo the band.

The Man Show and Women

The new season of the Man Show starts Sunday, May 2nd with back to back new episodes, including the Tonya Harding fight. Tivo it, cocksuckers. In the meantime, you can get the Girls Gone Wild video I hosted here. I watched it and actually thought it was pretty funny and I hate every word that has ever come out of my gaping mouth. I have temporarily yanked the Tonya Harding story that was up a couple days back. I'll put it back up Sunday after the show airs. Wouldn't wanna give away the ending in case you have money on it. Come back Sunday night for the behind-the-scene details.

Also, I taped my new DVD/CD - Before Turning The Gun On Himself - for Shout! Factory last weekend in Seattle. Thanks to all who came out. It should be ready for release in August. Stay tuned and fill out the mailing list for updates on that and live performances in your area.

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NOTICE -

PayPal has stopped service because they say that this is an adult site - a deal-breaker in their code of ethics. How is this an adult site? Beats me, but if you're on the internet and you pick this site to jack off, your problems are far worse than my problems with the thieves at PayPal.

In the meantime, you can get the CDs at www.amazon.com and the DVD at www.sacredcow.com.

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Earlier this year, I was protested at a show in Madison by a group of socialists that deemed The Man Show to be degrading to women. [Archives: September 2003]

Shortly afterwards, I was given a 6 page letter at a show by a woman - Lynda - who had driven several hours to a show in Des Moines, also upset with my participation on The Man Show and it's relationship with the subjugation of the ladies - especially because she had always found my humor to be "intelligent".

I promised her at that time that I would read her letter and respond in kind but then I figured I'd wait until this Girls Gone Wild video that I hosted came out. If you think girls on trampolines is exploitation then Girls Gone Wild is video gang-rape.

(This may be a poor choice of words in light of recent allegations against GGW owner Joe Francis. But fuck it, I'm hard up for analogies. Besides, that girl was asking for it by the way she was raped.         Pause............Oh, please - it's a fucking joke. Lighten up.)

If you have ever wondered how a naive young lady from middle America could make the jump from sorority sweetheart to ass-arched and eating beaver in front of a Sony PD-150, you need no more than to spend 30 minutes in the GGW editing bay.

Not only will you see women go from staunch puritan to finger-banging nymph in less time than it takes to heat frozen pizza, you see it done using the comic-fodder cornball lines from any "How To Pick Up Chicks" manual.

This isn't exploiting women. This is exploiting idiots. And to trying to protect idiots from themselves is like fighting to kick water up hills.

Usually I can see both sides of any argument and will concede the difference. I eat meat but can see why someone would be against the methods that the industry uses. I think it would be a safer country if guns were illegal but I still would not trade liberty for safety.

I do not see how shows like the Man Show or Girls Gone Wild hurt women. I have pondered it calmly and rationally. I don't see it. Maybe I just haven't heard the right argument but I read Lynda's letter and she seemed as bright and articulate as anyone I can imagine not understanding.

Lynda says it's degrading because these programs show women as one-dimensional, ignoring their emotional and intellectual attributes. Not so. They do not show women as one-dimensional, they just show one dimension of women. A Discovery channel show about cervical cancer doesn't necessarily show women as emotional or intellectual beings either. And with the women I saw on GGW, you'd rather see their cervical cancer than their intellects.

As for the Juggies - they, like most of us, are looking for extra attention and a pass from the ugly 9-5. They could give a fuck if you look at them as sex objects, reptiles or epileptics so long as they get a free drink here and there and don't have to punch a time card at Home Depot.

As for the wobbling nitwits on Girls Gone Wild - well, again - that's just straight up exploitation. Hanging a video camera out like a bug-light for ego-starved dummies who will sober up in the morning and milk drama out of it for years.

How people are excited by it is beyond me but I've been so immersed in titties in the last year that it's like saying a word over and over again until it doesn't make sense. You may as well have burning tires hanging off your chest. Maybe that's why some women are out-raged by this kind of stuff - because it de-values a marketable grift. I always thought that was a main reason that women are against prostitution. They look at hookers like scabs crossing a picket line. Why go out and sell it when you could hold out for so much more?

Until men no longer want to fuck you, it is a need that will be exploited in some fashion and by both sexes. You will exploit our need as much or more as men will.

For all of your protests, legislation and vigilance, you cannot change human nature. You may become a loud enough voice that one may hide his boner for fear of being seen as less than ethical. It won't change the fact that he has a boner. You may make it seen as wrong to laugh at one type of humor but if I have to wait to get to the privacy of my car to laugh, it's still funny.

Back around '94 or so I was leaving a park in Minneapolis when I spotted a group of 5 or 6 middle-age, PTA-looking women throwing rocks at ducks in the lake. Not teenage hooligans. Fat midwestern housewives. Chucking rocks at ducks. I asked someone walking away from the group what the hell was going on. Evidently there was a female duck in heat - and when male ducks catch a whiff, the courting process is more prison rape than Elimidate. 30 - 35 male ducks were pig-piling on this female duck in a squawking frenzy like the Houston 500 porno gangbang.

And these women were doing their civic duty of trying to stop it. By force. I pulled my car up close to them as I pulled out and rolled down my window. "Hey ladies", I yell and they turn around. "It's ok. Ducks fuck." And the one woman, crazed and spitting bile screams "NOT LIKE THAT, THEY DON'T!" That she meant it was absolutely terrifying. Trying to fix nature by throwing rocks at it. Protesting against human nature. And democracy is fair because it gives this broad array of morons a voice in your future. Eesh. Ducks Fuck. Girls Go Wild. Men look. No one gets hurt. If you want to help, quit your whining, get out there and suck a dick in that lower 95th percentile.