WEEK ONE
The Game Changer
Gravity is a greedy bitch. Superman is a made up pile of FUCKING BULLSHIT.
Thems are the third and fourth thing I thought of as I was dropping like a lead fart. The second was Keanu Reeves is an asshole. In Point Break, he jumped without goggles. So did Roger Moore in one of his James Bond movies. Hard wind can rip your eyes out of their sockets. You can dive buck ass naked if you want, but doing so without SOMETHING protecting your eyes will blind you good and proper... unless you close them, but believe me, you don't want to do that. You would miss EVERYTHING.
The first thought I had? I wondered where I found the balls to take that first step, and thank God I did.
The movies will never tell the truth. You are going fast... FAST. The ground just zooms at you. You feel like you have seconds, and you do... 35 to be exact.
You can't breathe up there very much either. The wind shoves itself in your mouth. You gulp for air rather than breathe, its going in too hard...
...but man, MAN, is it clean air. It's thin, but its babyfresh.
So yeah, you try to fly. Casually, you try to be cool about it, but you make all the comic book poses. This is where you declare that Superman is an asshole. It doesn't matter if you scream it or not, you can barely hear anything. You have earplugs in. Do you REALLY want your ears exploding at 12K feet? No, didn't think so.
I could've been assraped and I wouldn't have known. Not too thrilled with experiencing this with a dude... (and believe me, he was a dude, totally Patrick Swayzeish. I half expected him to invite me out to rob a bank after we hit the ground. I would've gone for it... so long as I got to wear a Warren G Harding mask.) He's on your ass, literally spooning you. If you aren't screaming "WHOO HOO", don't worry, he's got you covered.
The funny thing is, you want to fall all day, there is nothing like it. It's death and life all at once, it's not like you see God or anything, but you get a teeny sense of what He sees, how grand it all is, how remarkable life is. The ocean will never look so blue again, lawns will never look so green. Brown and gray buildings and homes will never look so intrusive to nature.
Then the chute opens and the speed your going is cut by half. Now your heart starts to calm, and it gets easier to breathe, and you can absorb what you're doing and what you're seeing. And its a game changer.
...but I know how it works... you appreciate things more and have this fucking amazing adrenaline high and want to go have the most incredible sex you've ever had... and if you're lucky, you can make the euphoria last for a few days before your normal routine overwhelms you and sets itself back in. But for those first few days after you land safely without blowing out a knee or shattering an ankle... well, they haven't made a rock of crack that could top this buzz.
For a few days, life is awesome. And you make some decisions you should've made years ago. And you start cutting out the pointless. Get rid of the useless. Revamp and reevaluate.
And try to make the high last. Its free and legal and its the best.
The New Girl
Is curvy and nice and funny and a good cook and smart and loves to play scrabble and chess and eats like a champ and burns it all away. And she is normal, not afraid of age, and doesn't look like an anorexic space alien.
It's nothing. It's everything. I'm not thinking about it. I'm just rolling.
And since she facebooks, and since she doesn't know of this blog, you don't get a name or a face or anything. It's not your business. Never was. Nothing I do is. You take what I give you and run with it all you like, because the TRUTH is... oh, wait... I'll save this for later.
The Drunken Lion
I don't know how much coverage he got anywhere else, but here in New England, Teddy Kennedy's death and funeral received 24 hour press.
And they focused on the good while skimming briefly over the bad. What bad, you ask?
Well... he killed a girl. He was driving drunk and dumped a car in Lake Chappaquiddick. He swam to shore and crawled to a bart where he waited until he sobered up before calling the EMTs. Problem was, there was a girl in the car that drowned. Teddy chose his career over another person's life.
And then he played a rather large role in a certain 'Kennedy Compound" scandal in the late 80's. His nephew apparently raped a girl during a party. He was acquitted... but the record did show that Teddy was a part of the party that evening... and was quite ballface drunk during the time.
Then there are the tales that do not make it in the papers, but Massachusetts people have a way of spreading the word. Countless tales of a drunk Ted groping, manhandling, and fondling poor girls, and screaming at anyone who would dare try to stop him.
See, the dark side is he's a Kennedy, the last true one. He's ENTITLED. That's what the fawning press doesn't report... the way they carry themselves as if they are entitled to be above the law, above proper etiquette. On The Simpsons, Mayor Joe Quimby IS Ted Kennedy... why else do you think he has that accent?
But... you hear other things... like the family whose daughter has a rare blood disease, and whose insurance decided to get out of the free care business with her, and how her desperate family placed a phone call to Kennedy's office in D.C. and explained their tale to one of his aides. You hear how they hung up the phone and said, "Well, it's a shot." and expect6ted not much in return.
Then you hear about how, a week later, their doctor calls and said the insurance changed their minds and the girl will be covered completely. You hear how Senator Kennedy made a quiet phone call and straightened things out and got one of his constituentes, without any press or hype, the insurance coverage they needed to give their daughter a life. You hear this story, about a Senator who will tend to his plants as well as the big forest and ask for little fanfare in return.
You read about a Senator who will cross party lines when he sees a benefit for the people. You see a benefactor for an entire, affluent state who often does what's best for his people before his party. You sneer at unlimited terms but begrudgingly agree that he did a lot of good and his state was safe and looked after with him in the seat.
But then you think, "He killed a girl." You wonder about all the girls he groped and manhandled and all the damage he did while drunk.
I'm basically from Massachusetts, and I'm not politically historic enough to open my own argument. So I ask you, outsiders... a question that no one I've talked to from around here can answer evenly.
Ted Kennedy. Did his work in the Senate redeem his private life? Did he end up doing more good than harm?
30 + years ago, he let a girl drown. Did he redeem himself?
I'm curious to hear your opinions.
For the Last Time: The Catfish Takes The Bait (The State of the Blogspot)
Enjoy this, kids, because it will be the last time.
Truth is, I don't care if Wade Keller takes in more cock then an fucking henhouse. I don't care if Jay Powell swallowed enough cum to puke over Bermuda and impregnate half the island with little bald runts. I don;'t care who YOU don't care for and who you want me to... "destroy".
See, I'm retired, its over. And since a Judge already ruled that you really can't hide under a semi-fake name anymore and trash who you want, my timing was right on.
Ask me to "attack" someone else, like Jeff Smalls and Larry Csonka. My answer will be FUCK YOU. Grow a pair and attack them yourselves.
Do you miss the "Old Hyatte" who would burn someone down for no real reason? Grow the fuck up. Suck my cock. He's still here, but he's smart enough to know when to quit. And he realizes that he doesn't have a column anymore.
SEE, YOU STUPID FUCKFACES... I was doing a COLUMN where my job was to CONFOUND my bosses who thought I couldn't draw, and DREW. Widro will never admit how important I was to him... he'll NEVER admit that I gave him the means to open his own web site and do something with it... his problem is that he never did.
Ashish will never admit that I MADE IT POSSIBLE for 411 to be the.... whatever it is today. He's as big as he is and as wealthy as he is because of me... but he won't admit that.
But IT WAS A COLUMN. This isn't a COLUMN, it's a blog. A blog where I don't care who comes and reads. A lot of you don';t get this. It's not a BLOG. I have no RESPONSIBILITIES HERE. I post when I want. About what I want. Period. FUCKING END OF SENTENCE.
And I don't care... fuck them... I know the score, so do they, and so do YOU, if you've been following me for any length of time, you know what I made possible. Who cares... Inside Pulse bombed and Ashish still refuses to offer payment to anyone. He's an Indian, it's normal procedure.
But still, you dumb fucks keep trying and trying to goad me... and sometimes it works... but not anymore. And neither will shit like this:
September 5, 2009 2:18 PM...Anonymous said... hyatte's post, translated:
- "I met someone" - Finally, we get the latest dramatic twist. Something to take our minds off of that time when someone called Grut saying he could walk all over you, then you dared him to "toe up" and switched the blog to invite only. This is just like that time you got married! More comments! More controversy! Wow, I'm commenting too! That might mean I'm falling for it too! Or GAY! And you're still reading this comment! This is an anonymous post and that's a BIG DEAL!
You're so full of shit. Go ahead and tell us allll about your bromance, pussyface. On Monday. After skydiving.
Yeah, Anonymous missed a rather important part of his history here...
The part where I challenged someone to "walk all over me" and go "toe up" and... well, I didn't go directly to "Invite Only"... there was a week or so where I went "No Anonymous Allowed."
And no one answered. When I asked for someone to toss me around like a bitch and to finally EXPOSE ME, I decided that they should sign it with a real ID... I wanted to see if anyone had the balls to come out of the shadows and show themselves. I mean, taking me down and nailing me on my own turf is still something to be semi-proud of? Isn't it?
Yeah, well... not only didn't "Grut" respond, after a looooong period of openness, no one did. Not a one. No one.
You had your chance, now its over.
You fucking cowards.
You'll never have my respect, or my worry, or my attention. Because you proved that unless you can post anonymously, you are a fucking pussy. Chickenshit cowards. No one can "walk over me" becaue the second I make you attach a real name, you run away like fucking mice when the humans walk into the room. Fucking children... gutless little faggots.
I live on my own, pay bills, have great credit, work a job that I like, get laid whenever I want, and have lots of spending money. I made friends with at least one big time WWE wrestler without ever going to a show or stalking them at a fucking bar. She comes to me. You come to me. You think I'm some sort of loser. You're posting, ONLY under a blanket of anonymity because you're a gutless fucking coward, on a loser's board. Makes you less then me, doesn't me... but I knew that anyway... anyone WITH the balls to put a real name to their posts (JesseBaker, Frank, Rich, Byron, Julie, Porn Valley, Moonage, Bruce, Gray, and a few others who know they aren't part of who I am talking to right now) knew it. You are cowards.
Cowards,
So you think you're going to bug me anymore? Run me offline? To what purpose? Who are you going to brag to? "Hey dudes, guess what? I berated a guy on his blog until he stopped posting!!!" Yeah, you know, I sort of see some of you thinking that is actually plausible. Might get you laid, huh?
Fucking cowards. I gave you a shot, you slunk away and didn't return until I bought back anonymous posting. Little pieces of timid dogshit. Useless. Worthless. You're tru=ying to beat up a blogger and can't do it because you're too afraid I might catch you're real name or real address.
Or real IP address... which I can get to, you know. STUPID FUCKS.
So go for it again. Attack me. Talk about how I can be walked all over. Beg me to attack some lame 411 writer with the empty audience Saturday slot. Ask me to goof on Wade keller because he's gay. Waste your time some more. Oh, you're stupid fucking post will make it on here... and maybe I'll let it stay...
But I'll ignore you, like everyone else in your life... you'll be ignored.
See, I don't deal with people who hide. When I attacked, I always had an email address to be contacted by. I always gave someone room to make it real. I didn't hide. I didn't yell at people from the shadows. I was easily accessible. You little fairies hide... hide like bitches. Like little fucking cowards.
Just fucking sit there and think of something blistering to say here and high five yourself if I respond. You know where you are in life and you can only ASSUME... based on what I feed you, on where I am. And even infantasy, you know I am a better writer, a better date, and a more fun ride then you can ever hope to be...
And I'm about 5X smarter than you.
And I could probably beat the living shit out of you in a fight. Just because you watch all the possible UFC programming allowed doesn't make you a bgad ass.
You fucking fairies. From here on out, I only respond to people with balls. "Grut" ain't included.
When I offered you to go toe up, you ran your toes far away. I know who you are now. We all do. You ain't shit. Just little cowards. All you are. Little cowards.
Yeah, stay anonymous. It's now amusing.
