I haven't written on this blog for a while.  What is the point?  There is no point.

     Rules have been imposed on me.  No mentioning of people's names.  No writing about people.  No specifics.  That doesn't leave me with much.

     So, writing about the bar, and what happens there is no fun.

     In the old days when I started writing on the web, no one would give a crap.  I would just write about myself, and post pictures of my art.  No one cared.

     But once I started writing smack about other people, things changed.  Plus, I had a lot more fun.

     Anyway, 'The Drunken News' has gotten me into trouble with some people.  Trust me, it's been more trouble than it was worth.

     I mean, "Who sends emails to bartenders about what I write on facebook?"  The bartenders didn't want or like the emails, so I had to curtail my writing.

     It is all for the better, I suppose.

     To me, 'The Drunken News' just started as a comedy thing to amuse myself and one or two others.

     Then it turned into a thing that I would get into trouble for.

     Then, I quit 'The Drunken News', and some people said I should keep going.  The support I got was enough to reinvigorate my interest.  I was seriously going to quit.  I actually did quit, but it only lasted a day, haha.

     I guess even nicknames of people can be revealing because people know who I am referring to.

     People have written about me, god knows why, and I could give a bleep.  I mean, what does it matter what people write?

     The problem remains of "Where to go from here?"
     I don't know.

     A bar is a business.  All the bartenders care about is that the bar runs smoothly.  That is it.

     As a customer, it is my job to give the bartenders money, so I can 'rent' a drink for a while.

     But yeah, there is a lot of drama.  Alcohol does different things to different people.  That is what makes it all interesting. 

     Even last night there were a plethora of events.  But these things will disappear forever.  I ain't writing about these things here.  I don't want to get into trouble.

Absolutely Nothing Happened Last Night

     There was not a thing that happened.  It was absolutely quiet, and there was no activity from anyone doing anything.
     Nothing was said or heard.
     There was a stillness.
      A quiet feeling permeated the room.
     Beyond that, not even an insect stirred.

     It was like a ghost town.

Some Thoughts on a Sunday Afternoon

     "Well, what I did today was to write a bunch of smack in my notebook instead of postin' it all up on facebook.  That way, if I done get killed, my notes can be published,...what do they call it?  Post-humously,"
David thought to himself.
     "Anyhow, it has been really weird lately, and I is a fixin' to lay low, and generally behave myself.  Some folk don't take too kindly to no jokes, and they certainly don't like to be made a fool of, especially by someone like me who they don't consider to be worth a dang anyhow," David continued.
     "My Lord, alcohol sure does get me into trouble at times.  That whiskey is the main culprit that does do it.  Man, o man, that stuff makes some truth come out that I don't want to say, but since I am drunk, it just comes out anyhow.  I guess and reckon that that is all part of the fun, I suppose, " David reflected.
     "Gosh darn it, I sure am in a heap of trouble, and I don't know how to git myself out of it.  I could stop existing, like some would want me to, or go away, but I also think some people ought to move to North Dakota.  Maybe they would be happier there, " David pontificated.
     "All I knows is that I just wants to be an artist, and I is one, no doubt about it.  Some think I am a bad artist, or not very good, but I beg to differ since I seem to have the ability to produce paintings that people actually shell out hard-earned money for.  So I don't know what the fuss is all about," David reasoned.
     "Damn, well, I can't give up now.  In fact, I'm just gettin' started.  I can't be blamed for trying to survive in this world.  What am I supposed to do, nothing, and just be homeless?  Sheez, you do a little work right in front of people, and they get all huffy and such.  I'm just doing my thing, nothing wrong with that," David sussed up.
     "To spy on people who spy, well, that is all a game.  I still think it is funny.  I find it rather hilarious.  People with nothin' to do, in everybody's business, examining what they do at every minute, and then when I do the exact same thing to them, they want to beat me up.  It figures, I'm always the one that gets the short end of the stick and scapegoated and all that.  At times, it don't seem fair it all.  But as long as it is all in fun, I don't see no harm in anything.  Maybe some people just need a vacation, or a break.  Maybe a movie, instead of sipping wine every night and judging people.  I mean, there are parks in the city where people can sit, look up at the sky, and say, "Man, life is good.  Maybe I shouldn't be so condescending to people, and treat folk better, and stop being a paranoid person, all pent up, and such," David stretched out.
     "I guess if it was another day in time, maybe I would get lynched or shot in the back like they used to do.  That is how they used to deal with folk they didn't like much," David reflected.
     "I just don't see how it can be a museum of tolerance, where one guy gets singled out.  That just don't seem right.  It is like they want to run me out of town, at least.  And for what?  So that they can pick up on girls without anybody gettin' in the way?  Sheez.  I mean, there are tons of places to meet women.  You can't put all your eggs in one basket anyhow, no how," David mused.
     "I guess it all don't matter anyways...I mean, I just want to live my life, and so does everyone else.  But when I see a bunch of old men hovering over some young ladies that are just minding their own business having a nice conversation over a glass of wine, it makes me ill.  I mean, girls should be left alone, unless the company is cordially invited.  I can't help but feel a little protective.  I guess the girls know what they are gittin' into when they enter that place, but no sooner do they sit down but that they are hounded by the wolves.  It ain't a pretty sight, " David mulled over.
     "I do try to mind my own business, but it is kind of hard when people are in mine.  Haha, people who dislike me a lot are always lookin' at my art, seein' what I am up to, sheez.  Can't they just leave me alone?  My word and my god!" David exhaled.
     "Well, I guess that is all I feel like sayin' right now.  I could write more, but I have some online gamin' to do, " and with that, David turned off the bloggin' website, another thing that has gotten him into trouble with certain folk.

     There are people I talk about on 'The Drunken News'.

     Then, there are people I really like, and I don't talk about them on 'The Drunken News'.

     Finally, there are people I would really like to talk about, but I don't dare.  It is too dangerous at this time.

     The normal people that I consider my 'frenemies'...they are fair game.  They are neither true friend or foe.

     There are some psychotic people around, so it is best I just let them hibernate.

     Hey, some people can't take a joke.  That is true.  Normally, I would say, "Fuck them," but apparently even that is too much.

     It is funny that people are noticing my writing a little bit, but it is for all of the wrong reasons.

     That is about all I have to say right now.

The Gossip Machine

     I came to San Francisco in 1996 on an art scholarship. 
     Within a week, I noticed how much gossip circulated around North Beach.
     Everything I did seemed to be observed by somebody, and discussed.
     I wasn't the only one being talked about.  They talked about everybody.  I was just one more person to talk about.
     I wasn't really well received when I got here, but people wondered where I got money.  For the first two years here, I was pretty much living off of my scholarship money.
     After graduation, I found a live/work situation which made me really unhappy, doing things I didn't want to do, in order to survive.
     Eventually, I got a job as a doorman in a local bar.  That worked out for eight years.
     Then I worked at the ballpark for three years as a cotton candy vendor.  That was fun, but the pay was miniscule.
     For the past two years, I've been selling my art in a bar, barely scraping by, but having a good time.  I love what I do, and I'm happy.  Sometimes I have nights of $0, sometimes I do pretty well, thank you very much.

     So, one thing is constant.  The Gossip Machine is intact.

     Well, I guess it gives people something to do, and to focus on.

     Somebody said the other day that it was like 'Peyton Place', that famous old soap opera.

     It is pretty much a trap to get caught up in The Gossip Machine.  I have allowed myself to get sucked up in it as a joke.  I don't take it too seriously because all the people involved aren't even worth it to gossip about.

     I mean, what am I going to say?  This person is getting drunk again?  That is old news.

     People talk about who is dating whom, and I care nothing about such matters.  It is none of my business, unless, of course, it is as a joke.

     They don't talk about important things, like how to get ahead in business, or how to finish the final draft of a short story so it can be sold to a publisher.

     Mostly, they just 'blah blah blah', and quite frankly, it bores me to tears.

     I guess if they don't keep their lips moving at all times, their mouths might seal over.

     I don't see too much thought or philosophy in action.  Sure, there is some, but mostly it is just drinks and conversation.  Nothing wrong with that.  It is just a bar.
     But can't it be more?

     I often wonder what people do in the day.  I don't know how some of these people make it to their jobs on time in the morning.

     They probably go to their coffee shop, and do their day-time gossiping, talking about the previous night's events, in order to get ready for the evening.

     Some of these people say they are poets and writers, and I don't know when they do any writing.  How good can their work be if they are getting slammed every night?  Also, what in hell are they writing about besides drunken nights talking smack?

     I don't know.

     Anybody who questions my writing, or takes it too seriously should have their head examined, pronto.

The Outsider

     I am an outsider.  I am not from here.  I am mostly from Los Angeles, with an eight year stint in Utah.

     I am 45 years old now.  Seventeen of those years I have spent in San Francisco.  Some say you are not a true resident until you have been here for twenty years.

     Anyhow, I go to a local bar every night called, "The Texan Outhouse".  It has nothing to do with Texas.

     The bar is frequented by all kinds of people, from all walks of life.  Some of the customers are more well-off than others.  The economic range is 'completely homeless' to 'doing pretty good'.
   
     That is part of the appeal to the bar.  Anybody and everybody is welcome, some more than others.

     So, anyways, my perspective is of that of a fucked up artist ex-Mormon and current alcoholic.  I like to mix it up.

     I make art every night in the bar, and I often sell my art, too.  People like what I do enough to cough up some cash for it, which makes me happy.  It beats working.  Trumps it.

     Some people like me, some don't.  Nothing I can do about that, except to mind my P's and Q's.  I don't want to wear out my welcome.

     Sometimes I make fun of people in my art, and in my writing.  I think it is funny, that is why I do it.  Sometimes, however, I do it because I am morally outraged, or disturbed by what I see.

     One thing I do see, myself included, is people doing the same things over and over again, without variation.  I make fun of this a lot.

     For the most part, though, I don't know what to say.  It is just a bar.  It has a history and reputation of being a literary bar, though, where people would come in and write.
     Currently, I hear a lot of people say they are writers, but mostly they are talkers, I think.  I don't see any writing going on, except once in a while by the dedicated few.
     
     I do observe a lot of show-boating and drama.  There is a healthy competition at all times to be the center of attention, which is another great thing to make fun of.

     Overall, I like the bar a lot, and I like the freedom it provides.  I only wish more people would take advantage of this.  But that isn't my problem, is it?  No, I don't think so.

     Critics of my art work, and of me as a person, never buy my art anyhow, so I don't know why I care what they say.
     Hands down, the art that I do that sells the most is my naked lady art, so I'll continue doing that, drink a beer, and have a good time.

The Nexus

     Are you enjoying having no new 'Drunken News' blog entries?     It is just hard for me to care anymore.

     Actually, I wish I had full reign to say whatever I wanted, about who I wanted to write about.  That would be fun.

     However, if the fun element is completely stripped away, then there is no incentive.

     Not getting paid for my writing, the fun I have writing is the only motivating factor.  Take away that one element, and there is nothing.  There is just a void.  An empty space waiting to be filled.  A blank sheet of paper.  A white canvas.  Nada.  Zip.

     Is there anything to be said about a bar and its' denizens?  I think there is a lot.  A bar is a crossroads in the nexus of humanity.  Time stands still.  There is a lot to observe because of what humans do when they are intoxicated.  They become more of themselves for a while.

     The fictional name I came up with for the bar is 'The Texan Outhouse'.  That way I could still call it a 'First Class Toilet'.

     Meanwhile, as an update, I am still going through all the entries, to remove any and all offensive material.  So far, to be honest, I haven't found much. 
     Mostly I think what is going on is that people's egos are out of control with 'self-importance' set on high.

     The End For Now.

I don't get paid, so why should I continue?

     I don't know.

     There is no reason to write anymore on this blog.

"It's Over, Johnny"

     Yeah, 'The Drunken News' is over.  Nothing to read here.  Nothing to see, so just go away.

     I will, as a final gesture, post a picture...

    

     The sign reads, "A Gentleman does not adjust his crotch in public, nor does he ever make a date out of desperation."

     I guess I am a pretty sarcastic bastard, but I had fun posing for this picture.  I let out a big laugh after the picture was taken, right in front of Jasper Blurtzmann, too. 
     Oh well, what can you do?

     The quote comes from an antique book of manners that a bartender wrote on the board.

     There was some confusion about the second part of the line.  Basically, it means that a gentleman does not date below his economic or social class, for example, he does not fuck the maid.  Also implied is that a real gentleman does not sleep with whores in a situation where he can get caught, heaven forbid.  A real gentleman does indeed plan out his liasons, outside of his current zip code.  That is why people take vacations, for god's sake.

     So, thanks again to all those who have read and enjoyed 'The Drunken News'.  It is over for real.  Good-bye.

     You'll have to get your news from somewhere else.  You can always go back to the normal group of people in North Beach who have been talking bad gossip for the last twenty years.  It is okay if they do it, because they don't publish it, but it hurts just as bad, trust me.

It is over.

     'The Drunken News', as you know it, is over.

     It is all done.

     It is finished.

     I am quitting 'The Drunken News' in its' current form.

     First, I have to edit every entry.  This will take some time, as there are over sixty entries.

     There are a few entries that I have to edit because some people don't like to be written about, so I have to fix that.  Some people have a sense of humor, some do not.

     'The Drunken News' will become 'fictional', so as to protect myself.

     Just so you know, 'The Drunken News' is my fifth most popular blog.  That means that I have four other blogs that people have read more of.  This is funny especially with those that have been offended for whatever reason.  It could be ego, pride, or that I tell the truth.  In any case, some people don't like what I do.  In actuality, they don't like what I do whether I write about them or not.  They don't like anything I do, and writing about them just exacerbates things.  So, everything will become 'fiction', like I said in the preceding paragraph.

     For those fans who liked 'The Drunken News' just as it is....well, sorry.  Some people don't swallow pills very well, so I have to change things.

     For those people who come to this blog just for the gossip....well, I feel sorry for you.  Really, I do...especially since the whole thing was intended as a big, fucking joke.

     See y'all, later, you pathetic bunch of hot air windbag lazy ragamuffin bastards and bitches.

     KISS MY GRITS.


     ( Thus ends 'The Drunken News' in its' current state. )

     Bye for now.

     The End.

An Edited Post

     Yeah, I was completely going to quit doing 'The Drunken News'.  It wasn't fun anymore.

     ( I wrote an additional page of material, and then deleted it.  I know I wrote it.  However, due to recent events, no one will read it now. )

     Sorry.

     Bye for now.

Pretty Much

     Pretty much, 'The Drunken News' has pissed off two ( 2 ) people.

     As far as I know, that is about it.

    

     This isn't even my most popular blog, not that any of them are.

     The kind of person who reads this blog should probably stop reading it.  There is nothing good here.  You would be better off reading some real books.  I don't provide any real information here.

     Beyond this, I don't have to explain myself.

     I will say this, and that is I have gone back into some of the things I've written, and I'm not offended.  If you are, it is not my problem.

     If you don't like what I write, don't read it.  Bye.

    

Wow, it's been a busy week for 'The Drunken News'.

     I'm going to go through every article to see what needs to be edited...

     I just flipped through some posts that I wrote.  That anybody would take anything I write seriously is beyond me.

     

     'Animal Stacking' is going well.  It generated $10 of income. 
     I told the couple that it only costs $1 per animal, but they insisted on paying $10 for two animals, because they had so much fun stacking.
     Here is what they did...

     It is a pretty impressive stack.
     When it fell, the girl let out the most delightful squeal of laughter.  It was really funny to hear her be so happy over a bunch of plastic animals.
     I'd like to make a t-shirt that reads, "Chicks Dig Animal Stacking', along with a little graphic.

     Meanwhile, 'The Woman Who Talks Too Much' has been quiet the last two days.  I've been amazed.  It makes for a better bar experience, though, for everybody.

     This 'BigHead' guy didn't like my post on facebook, but if he can't take a joke, it's not my problem.  If he is going to pass out, what does he expect?

     No one is without sin, or without some kind of problem in a bar.  I am certainly no exception.  But the idea is to be friends with everyone when possible, and to forgive minor offenses.
     When a repeat offender like Elvis Christ is around, I don't know what to do.  It's even hard to avoid him.  He chased after me when I was trying to walk away.  Also, I don't like his yelling into the bar, and yelling at people.
     It is just a matter of time when Elvis will mess up big time, and end up in jail again.  I'll laugh when that happens.
     I know the cops are so sick of him, that they are tired of arresting him.
     I guess Elvis is 'King of The Dicks'.

     Yeah, the idea of a bar is for everybody to have a good time.  Sometimes that just can't happen.  Some people's main goal is to bring everyone down to their level.

     There are a lot of people who want to sit and do nothing, and to make sure their life does not progress in any way.  I'm against this.  So, these kind of people are going to hate me when I'm drawing, painting, and animal stacking.  Plus, really attractive women come to my table to look at my art.  So, it isn't my problem if people don't like what I do.  I've never been popular in anyway, so screw it.  I just don't care anymore.

     One woman was so drunk last night, she started talking to me about 'Roger Rabbit' the movie.  She melted my head  big time.  If she is so drunk that she is talking off-topic about s*** I don't care about, she should just go home.  Jesus.

     So, I go to the bar seven nights a week, trying my best with my art.  It is hard work to lug all this crap up to North Beach on a bike.  But if I don't do this, I'll end up homeless.  If people don't like what I do in order to survive in this town, they must want me to die, so truck them.  I don't have time for people who want to see me fail and be dead.
     I would much rather be doing well and being alive.

     One last thing.  There are little 'Faction Groups' where allegiances are made.  Decisions about who to hang out says what you agree with as a person.
     Yeah, I decided to start my own faction group, and to see who comes along for the party, because trust me, I'm having a good time.
     If people want to hang out with a bunch of hot air talkers, go right ahead, but at my table, you'll see a zebra stacked on top of a giraffe, along with painted images of naked ladies.

     Hey man, you don't see me bumming people for money, or without beer.  I must be doing something right.

     Plus, as evidenced by this article, I'm not just at a bar getting drunk and making art.  I'm writing and making videos during the day.

Elvis Christ is Baaaaaack

     Whoopee.  I am so thrilled.

     He likes to get drunk in the alleyway, and yell at people.

     I wish he would move to Montana, and never come back.
     I'd be happy to pay for his one-way bus ticket.

     I saw him open the door of Vesuvio, and yell inside, making the bartender mad.

     I saw him last night yell at an elderly couple saying things that I can not really repeat on a general audience blog.

     One would think a restraining order for a year and a half, and countless brushes with the law would teach him a lesson.
     It actually did for a while, but Elvis is back to his old tricks, much to the chagrin of everybody.

     I don't seem him as serving any purpose whatsoever.

     The only thing that made me laugh about him is he and Bambi Lake look so similar in appearance that they could be siblings.
     Both of them can go to Montana as far as I'm concerned.  Maybe they can get lost in the mountains.

     One sec, let me articulate this....

     Elvis:  Jack!  You are a piece of s***!

     Then Coffee James said, "I second that motion."

     C.J. is another guy I can do without.  My new name for him is 'Mr. Inspiration', because if I followed his example, I would, every night, drink half of a coffee, smoke pot, and cruise chicks if any are around.  Gee, maybe I should change my life to this, and I could inspire all around to follow my example.  All it makes me think about is my entire life I was told to 'set an example', and you know what?  It just doesn't work.  So much for Mormon Propaganda.

     Anyway, Mark Collins doesn't mind if I use his name in various projects and cartoons.  I think that is pretty funny, and cool of him.

     Mark used to know of two other 'Tony Ryan's'.

     There are thirty 'David Lovins' in the United States, at least, so what does a name matter?

     Anyway, Jessica was silent last night.  I guess she was taking a day off, which I was really happy about. 


     I saw last night Marcus come to life when two women were near him, then as soon as they were gone, he went back into 'Moe Sulking Mood'.  He relies on other people to entertain him, which is something I could never do.  I'm a grown man, and at the very least, I would bring a notebook and a paperback to entertain myself.
     I have no idea how some people can stare at a wall for four hours...every night.

     Yes, I am really bitter and angry about some people, but I try to mind my own business.  When I get drunk, little under the breath comments come out of my mouth, which reveals my true feelings, and makes me laugh at other people's expense.  It is a lot of fun.
     Basically, people don't think much of me, so in return, I don't think much of them.
     I don't go to the bar every night to win a popularity contest.  That would never happen anyway, and I don't care.  I do have work to do, though, so I try and do as much as I can each night.  It is not easy to make art, which is why most people don't do it.

     Anyway, there will always be people who look at my art and say nothing, and some are regulars, and some are strangers.

     I have taken into consideration that I am not very approachable, but it depends on a variety of circumstances, like my mood, and whether or not they think I am a freak, or just some guy making art in a bar.

     I don't worry too much about writing about people I don't care for much...they don't read or look at my work anyhow.
     I look at their table, and what they are doing, and I see nothing.

     I do wonder about people who say they are writers, though.  When in hell do they do it?  I sense a lot of hot air.
     What in hell do they do?  Drink for five hours per night, and then write seven to ten pages a day on their novel during the day?  If they did that, when do they work?  I have no idea?

     I also really wonder about poets who don't carry a little notebook around.  What if an idea comes?  All I know from personal experience is that if I don't write the thought at the time, it will always be forgotten, or different then the original intention when I try to write it down later.

     One thing I can't stop thinking about since some of those bums drink in the alley is, "What if I brought a beer from another place, and hid it in the plants when I was inside?  Then I could have a beer both inside and out."
     I would get into trouble for that, I'm sure, so I'll just keep watching the bums drink outside.  After all, it is a public street.

     I did see three bums kick out the bum with sunglasses.  They all ganged up on him, and kicked him out of the area, which I was happy about, because I hate the guy they kicked out.
     It is funny to see a hierarchy amongst the homeless.
     Quite frankly, I wish they would all go away, but that gonna happen, because remember, everybody, they are people, too, and they have rights!

     I wish Bo would learn to draw, but that ain't going to happen, either.

     How'd you guys like my rant today, two people who read this?  haha.

Some Items For A Friday Afternoon

          I'm actually not into detailing every aspect of the bar.  I feel that would be intrusive.  Also, I don't trust facebook.  I think facebook is rather manipulative.  I refrain from answering surveys, or giving more information than is needed.  Once you type something into facebook, they own it.  They sell off your information to interested companies, I believe.

      Anyway, this Stormtrooper had a rough day.

      The toys help to sell my napkin art.

      Lest anyone think I want to be at a bar every night, you're wrong.  I would rather sit at home and play video games.  I don't do this for my health.

      If he can't take a joke, fuck him.  He sure does seem to like the young ladies.  He can't take his eyes off of them.  Neither can I, but sheez.  Is he hoping to sack a couple of them?  It sure seems that way to me.  Maybe he should try an internet dating service, and he can tell the girl about his time spent in the 1960's.

      I like Mark.  If he makes you listen to one of his stories, at least there is a point to it.

      I will have to someday make 'The Lego Larry Movie'.

     I can't stand listening to Messica.  She drones on for hours.  Some of my most wonderful nights at the bar is when she isn't there.  Her voice really carries, too, which is a shame for me.  How much socializing can a person do?  Jesus.  She was talking last night about how perhaps it might be handy to have a personal trainer to help firm up her belly.  I wonder how the drinking is going to fit into her work-out schedule?  It beats me.

     Just to end this entry on a positive note, I like Leon and those old guys he hangs out with.  I can listen to them for hours, and they don't like 'The Poet's Group' too much, either.  Haha, I found some friends.

Elvis Christ

     I think it is time for Elvis Christ to get a renewal on his restraining order.

     I never thought much of him, and I wish he would move to another continent.

     Elvis was wondering why I didn't want to talk to him last week.  He doesn't remember all the times he has offended people with his drunken behavior, and what a pain he's been over the years.

     As regards his 'tape art', I never liked it because the words he wrote didn't make sense.

     This is a general audience blog, and Blogger doesn't like profanity; otherwise, I would swear a lot right now about that son of a bitch.

Strawberry Hat Jessica Out For The Count

     Not much happened, but I heard Strawberry Hat Jessica was so drunk that she kept falling off the bench outside, so they finally laid her down on the sidewalk, until somebody could get her home.

     I got a lot of work done, so I was happy.

     I try to stay out of people's business, because it bores me, and what they do is so boring, just sitting in a bar talking for hours, with nothing getting done.
     I don't know how people have so much time.
     Life is short, you know.

     This woman Kathy died, who not too many people knew.  She hit her head when she fell at home, went into a coma for three weeks, and died.
     That is it for Kathy, which is unfortunate, because she was a really nice lady.
     She was an orphan, so she didn't really have much in the way of family.
     The picture of the blonde on the bulletin board near the door is Kathy.
  

     She was a lovely woman.

July 4th, etc.

     The 4th of July was fun because hot dogs were served, and I actually made it to the bar on time for that.  They were served by one of 'The Royal Couples of North Beach'.

     Fireworks were being launched from up the hill in Chinatown, so I don't know what was going on with that.  I had never seen fireworks that big come from that area.  I think because of the fire-code that it would be pretty illegal.

     Anyway, people have been pretty nice lately because of the holiday and the nice weather.

     One guy did do a 'CB' on me, ( a cockblock ), and I wasn't too happy with that.  He's the guy who leaves his coffee on the windowsill.  Haha.
     I've heard him defend himself before.  His comment would be something like, "She threw herself right at me!  There was nothing I could do!"
     I'm so tired of him as it is.
     There's plenty of girls around.  He doesn't have to flirt with ones I'm associated with.  But, of course, he'll do it again.

     I like the new word they call it when a guy over forty is cruising for chicks.  It's called 'trolling'.

     * * * * *

     I've started doing 'The Drunken News' on my painted napkins once in a rare while.  If you are lucky, you might find one going through my stacks of napkins.  Or if you mention to me that you read about it here, I might write you up a copy, if I'm in a good mood, and drunk enough.

     Thanks to all my readers of 'The Drunken News'.  You guys helped to make it all possible.  I appreciate the responses I get. 

     If I can find some cheap t-shirts, maybe I'll make some 'Drunken News'  shirts someday.  That would be fun.  I would just draw the logo on with a permanent marker.

The Basics of Journalism

     The only journalism class I ever took was in ninth grade.  Eventually, I didn't like being told what I could or could not write about.  I didn't like my content being edited.  I didn't like there being a line that I could not cross, even though it was just words, or submitting a cartoon from time to time.  So I never took another journalism class again.  A pity, maybe I would have liked it.
     Anyway, any good newspaper story covers "The Five W's":  Who, What, When, Where, Why, and the 'H'....How.

     Dang it, I forget the 'When'.

     I would swear profusely on 'The Drunken News', but I don't think Blogger appreciates too much profanity, so I try to avoid it.

     Basically, I think what happens in a bar should stay in a bar, and I really shouldn't go around writing too much about people unless I slightly fictionalize it, and even that isn't too good of a thing to do.  Some news items are just too juicy, however, so it is hard to resist.
     Some news items that others think are important, like a poetry reading, I could really care less about.
     My only point is that I do struggle with what I should and shouldn't post, and maybe that is a good thing.  At least I have a built-in decency meter.  Of course, it fluctuates wildly depending on my own drunkenness. 

     Nobody is innocent when it comes to 'The Drunken News'.  We've all done stuff we're not proud of, so I do try to be considerate.

     When it comes to people who are repeat offenders, or are generally a nuisance to others, those are who I like to go after.

     For example, I've never written about Carson on 'The Drunken News'.  Why should I?  He is a really nice guy, and never bothers anybody.
     But I do like to write about drunks that talk too loud every night, because they invade my space with their constant babble, and aren't considerate of others.

     I also don't like people who give the bartenders a hard time.  They have a tough enough job as it is.
     They deserve every cent they make, for essentially being 'Baby Sitters For Adults', haha.

     I'm still learning how to be a nicer and better person, but that is a different story, and I don't want to bore everybody to tears with all of that nonsense.

     Anyway, it's all good.  ( God, I hate that phrase, but it is useful at times like when you want to end a conversation with someone where you don't care what the hell they are talking about. )
    

Bully Bonehead and Some Signs

     It was easier to become friends with Bully Bonehead than to be enemies.
     My preference was actually to pretend he didn't exist, but his ego wouldn't allow that.
     I don't like his art, and I don't like him.
     So, now I have to go through the motions of pretending we actually have a rapport.
     I guess it is no big deal.

     Anyway, he showed me his art, and the anatomy was off.
     After looking at his art, I said, "Where's The Love?"

     That's all I have to say right now.
     I just had to get this off of my chest, because it was bothering me.

                              I'll just say 'whatever' and think about other things for the rest of the day.


     Anyway....

     I like the Specs' sign boards very much.
     I hate when people alter them.  It bugs me.

    

     I hope you enjoyed the signs.

Fun With An Umbrella

 "Would you like an umbrella?"

 "Eh...grrr...ugh...whatever."

 "Look, I'll try not to fall asleep."

"It actually is a nice time for a nap.  So dark, quiet, and cozy....zzzzzzzzzzzzz."

      Peter Losh finally got his own message.  It is an honor to get a mention.  I felt all warm and fuzzy when I got one once.

   "I'm Not Dead Yet".  Monty Python reference for 'Losh Life'.

'Quik Draw' and Marcus.

     I was able to photograph these signs before 'Woody Woodpecker Laugh Guy' altered the sign.  He is the one who usually messes with the sign, which annoys me.

I might as well put these two pictures of the signboard for the fiftieth post of 'The Drunken News'.  I have no idea what it means, which is also true of my experience at the bar.

     Ugh......some guy was wound up a little too tight, and he didn't like that I was giving him 'smart apple' answers to his questions.
     It was hard to take him seriously since he just came into the bar to use the bathroom, so I don't know what his problem was.
     He actually held out his hand, and wanted some of my peanuts.
     I said, "I'm not going to give you any, I don't even know you."
     Maybe the guy felt that I was dissing him, but I'm not going to give a stranger who walks up to my table my peanuts.  'F' him.  I felt he was rude.
     He looked like the kind of guy who used the bathroom just to tag it, and that happens all the time.
     Sure enough, I went into the bathroom later, and there was a new tag in there.
     I'm not a big fan of graffiti people.  I think most of their 'work' sucks.

     Marcus fell asleep at the bar again.
     The Drunken Woman forced me to listen to her again.
     The WonderMan of Depression made my innards turn inward upon sight of him.

     Other than that, everything was hunky dory.  It was peachy.

     Two young woman asked Mark if I was insane, and he said, "He hasn't been declared 'legally insane' yet."
     I liked his reply.


    

Bear on the Bench

      Basically, I know who put the bear there.  He is a friend, so no need to mention him on 'The Drunken News'.

      I prefer this bear to most of the miscreants who sit on this bench.

      The bear minds his own business, and doesn't bother anybody.

     Plus, he looks cute, and that goes a long way if you are a bear.

The Drunken News Welcomes Readers

     'The Drunken News' would like to welcome readers who have ignored me for seventeen years.
     Also welcome are readers who have ignored me for twenty-one years.

     News Flash:  All are welcome to move to another state if I hate you.  There probably is a good reason, and I am probably not alone in this hate towards you.

     If you hate me, well, you are welcome to move, because I'm not moving.  So to get away from me, just jump on a plane to Denver, and then drive to Wyoming.  Lots of room there.

     I always talk about W.W. Jessica, but never R.W. Jessica.  Well, Red Wine thought she lost her strawberry hat, but she found it in her hood.  That is good.

     I am too drunk to continue this, but thanks for your support.

     It is time, to...pass out.

     It is difficult to even get into it, but Mark Schwartz was acting pretty crazy last night, and he wouldn't leave the bar.  I don't like to talk about this stuff.  I certainly don't like to write about him.
     Mark Schwartz is a giant pain in the ass.
     He mixes his medication with alcohol, and that is about the worst thing you can do.
     As a result, he gets more messed up than ever.

     You know, most people just eat right and do some exercise.

     If you think medication is going to help you in the first place, you are running away from something you don't want to deal with.

     So, this whole thing is not my problem.

      I just typed this in 'for the record'.

     I really wasn't happy when he slammed the door open with a big push.  That door is fragile as it is.

     W.W. Jessica came to the rescue but escorting him out.  Sometimes it is better if a woman does it, to avoid conflict.

     Mark Schwartz was 86'd from the bar five years ago.

      See you, later, Tosca.  I'm looking forward to the new owners.  I have absolutely no emotional investment in that place.

      Meanwhile, I was trying to take a picture with a foreground, middle ground, and background.

     Luckily when I took the flash version of the picture, Leonard popped in at the exact right moment.

     This photo is one in a thousand.

    

      I have no idea what this message means.

      I hate this sign.

     I am thankful that people put up with my art mess every night.