$0.00 – A Thank You

001 The Kasual Kid

Get this you dimwits.  I’ll get to the funny business here in a second.  I have a bunch of funny stuff coming up, but I have to get down to some other bu$ine$s first.

I think I’m getting the boot.  All my WordAds are starting to disappear.  POOF!  Just like that.  I think someone reported me or something, just because I told them to stick it up their greedy, corporate arse in my previous post.  Unbelievable.  I thought I lived in a free country, but I guess not.  This is tyranny.  I re-read their terms of service, and I haven’t violated anything.  Nowhere in the terms of service does it say that a person can’t tell them to stick it up their greedy, corporate arse.

That’s what I get for listening to rap.  I never liked rap before.  I just started listening to it a few years ago just when I go running, or when I pull up to a red light in my Toyota Camry and crank some Jay-Z to impress the gal that pulled up beside me.  It never works, by the way.  I think I need bigger rims.

I’m back to running this week and I’ve been listening to a lot of rap again.  I guess Eminem must’ve rubbed off on me, and I had to open my big mouth and slam corporate America.  Thanks a lot Slim Shady.  Now I’m back to ZERO dollars earned off of writing in 8 years.  I’m never gonna afford that big ass yacht.

Well, the thing is, I actually don’t mind the ads.  I’ve watched several of them myself.  Since I write about trying to save the children and other inspirational topics, the ads are usually pertaining to outreach programs and community oriented stuff.  There was a really good one by Adrian Grenier from the show “Entourage.”  He’s a really cool dude, and he’s trying to make a difference in the world by using his celebrity status.  So here I am trying to make a difference in the world myself.  I lost 15 pounds writing last month trying to save the children, and I get the boot.   Makes a lot of sense.

I already have a plan if that’s the case.  I’m hoping that it’s not, but if I get terminated, then I’ll just go to WordAds biggest competitor and add them to my blog.  Whatever.  I’ve survived 8 years of writing without getting paid, and I’ll continue writing regardless.  I’m a determined mofo.  I’ve got ideas for 6 books, so I’ll get paid one way or another.  I just thought it’d be nice to have a little extra pocket change to eat at Arby’s.

Anywho, I created this rap persona a few years ago called “The Kasual Kid.”  That’s me, or him in the photo above.  I keep a flow book, and I spit mad rhymes every now and again.  I rap about things like shower loofas and the hard life growing up in the country tipping cows.   Maybe someday I’ll dig out a few flows and share them with you.  But I have more business to attend to for right now.

This is a thank you to the folks that stopped reading and dropped me like a bad habit.  I’m about to share some really funny stuff here in the next few weeks / months.  At least I hope it’s funny.  Some of you will probably think so.  The others that didn’t wait it out through all my crazy, mad stories, or got offended by a few things they disagreed with, well, they’ll miss out on all the funny stuff.

I use it for motivation.  I like to know people are reading.  It does mean a lot to me.  You guys and gals have been very kind with your comments, likes, shares, ect.  But I also like to know that certain people aren’t reading.  It gives me the drive to want to become a better writer.  I gave a thanks to all of you dearest dimwits who stuck around in the previous post, but this is a thanks to those that left.  It’s about to get real fun around here again.

One last thing.  I’d like to reconcile with WordAds if possible.  I don’t like to bite the hand that feeds me $7.33.   They don’t have to pay anything.  It’s a nice service, really.  So here’s an ad I made for them to promote their business and try to smooth things over.

Take care you dimwits.  I will do the same.

001 WordAds Makes You Cents

$7.33 – A Thank You

001 A Thank You

Wooooooo doggie!  It’s been a while since I’ve done one for the ladies and the gay gentlemen, so here you go.  Here’s an autographed topless photo of me while out for a jog the other day.

I’m back to running and I haven’t drank for a week.  Ladies, it’s worth mentioning that I’m very much single and I’m super awesome at taking out the trash.  Totally just kidding.  Taking out the trash is the worst.  But for the love of God, would one of you girls just marry me already.  I haven’t french kissed a girl in like 5 years, and I’m getting tired of making out with my pillow night after night.

Anywho, enough complaining.  It’s been a while since I’ve done a proper thank you to you dimwits.  I used to do up something special for every milestone:  50 followers, 500 followers, 1,000 followers, 70 gagillion followers, ect.  But then somebody brought it to my attention that calling people followers maybe isn’t the best term, because the word follower has some sort of sheepish connotation to it.

You dimwits aren’t sheep.  You’re tigers, you’re leaders.   You’re wonderful people, so I’ll just leave it at that.  I’ll just say thank you for reading however many of you there are, because it means a lot to me.  It used to just be my mother reading this damn thing and it got annoying with her commenting all the time, and nobody else (Hey ma, I need to borrow $1,000 pronto.  Wire it to my account.  Thanks.)

I hate math.  I hate it even worse than taking out the trash, but I wanna go over some math with you real quick.  I made my first money ever off of writing last month.  I put these stupid ads on my blog because I wanna buy a big ass yacht.  Guess how much money I earned the first month?  A whopping 7 dollars and 33 cents.  Woopty do, dinner is on me ladies.  Looks like we’ll be eating at Arby’s and we’ll have to share that chocolate milkshake.  If there’s any money left over, we can go buy a cookie from Subway.  7 dollars and 33 cents.  What a crock.

I got out my calculator.  I’ve been writing for about eight years now, so I’ve earned roughly one dollar per year.  I’d say over the course of a year, I average writing and Photoshopping about an hour a day.  So that’s 365 hours per year.  One dollar per year, divided by 365 hours, equals .0027 per hour.  Now, keep in mind the big ass yacht that I want to buy costs 65 million dollars.

I did some more math.  Math is seriously the worst.  I’d rather watch reruns of Lucy than do math.  I forget how I came to the answer exactly, but I figured out at this rate, I’d have to write for about 15 billion more hours to be able to afford the 65 million dollar big ass yacht.  Sounds about right.  What a crock indeed.  I think I’m gonna start making candles instead of writing.  At least my apartment will smell nice.

No, but seriously, I do enjoy writing and I plan to continue writing in the future as I get time.  I know my blog is confusing, and as a result, I’ve lost a lot of folks along the way.  Sometimes I write serious, sometimes funny.  Sometimes I share sad stories, sometimes I make Photoshop tutorials.  Sometimes it’s photos, sometimes it’s videos.  For a simpleton, I’m a very complex man.  But through all the various writing – up and down, sideways and backwards – some of you have stuck around through the whole thing, and that’s really cool.  I appreciate it mucho.  So this is my thanks to you.

I don’t like to make promises, but I think I worked a lot of stuff out last month.  I’m feeling good, so I think I’ll stick to some really funny writing for a while.  I have a bunch of ideas, some old stuff, some new stuff.  We’ll just see where the road leads.  It better lead me to that big ass yacht.  7 dollars and 33 cents.  Hey WordAds, suck it!  Take your $7.33 and stick it up your greedy, coroporate arse.

Well, anyway ladies and gay gentlemen.  Here’s a bonus video especially for you.  It’s a compilation video I made a few years back of my professional modeling photos.  I put it to the song “Love Is On the Way” by Saigon Kick.  Better get the cold shower ready.

Thanks again you dimwits.  Have a nice day.  I will do the same.

Poems By Ralph – “Lucky Stars,” “What A Pickle,” and “Puntin’ Or Gruntin'”

001 Lucky Stars

“Lucky Stars”

Alls I asked for on my fourteenth birthday
Was for a horse to go riding with him or her
Pap told me I was dreaming son
So I didn’t know if I would get one for sure

Well, turns out I got a ballcap instead
But Gram was nice enough to make me a deal
She said just down the street was this old guy named Fred
He told Gram I could pet his horse anytime I feel

I shook hands on that one with Gram
I says, “You’re on” and then I marched down to Fred’s
The old geezer had this sleek, brown horse
I guess he named the horse plain old Ed

Now, I didn’t tell Fred nothing
But I thought that name was kinda raw
I renamed Ed “Lucky Stars”
He was the prettiest horse that I ever did saw

Lucky Stars was a true character
He was always makin funny faces
I knew we was goin to be best friends
I told the horse we was gonna go some places

Fred told me Lucky Stars wasn’t meant for riding
He said he would turn nasty mean
One day when Fred wasn’t lookin
I jumped on that sucker like you wouldn’t believe

Turns out Fred was right after all
Lucky Stars got these mean old buck teeth
He turned into a total grouch ever since that ride
Then the poor Lucky Stars had to be put to sleep

(in remembrance of Lucky Stars)

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

001 What A Pickle

“What A Pickle”

Before you was a pickle
You was a cucumber on my Gram and Pap’s farm
I seen them care for you
I seen them keep the critters from causing you harm

Now you are a pickle
Gram keeps you sealed tight inside a mason jar
I bet you are daydreaming
Of when you was a cucumber buried underneath the stars

I asked Gram how’s come she done this to you
She told me she was busy, so go ask your Pap
So when I seen him in the living room
Of all the things
He had that mason jar resting on his lap

Pap reached his grubby paws inside the jar
He offered me the biggest pickle that I ever seen
Now what a pickle
Should I eat you or just leave you be?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

001 Puntin or Gruntin

“Puntin’ or Gruntin'”

“Yinz puntin’ or gruntin’?”
Uncle Rodger point blank asks me and Pap
“What do yinz think?” I asked him
“We was goin to just lay down and take a nap?”

I drawed up a play in the huddle
But I seen Uncle Rodger was tryin to hear
“Hey, cut it out yinz cheaters!”
I yelled to Uncle Rodger and his friend he calls Bear

“Bring it on you fudge packers.”
Uncle Rodger says right back to me
I shouted, “Yinz are dead meat!”
We was surely about to claim our victory

Me and Pap was ready for the play
I called out, “53 blue right, set, set, hut, hike!”
Then I chucked the ball through the air
But before Pap had a chance to catch it
Uncle Rodger set him flat on his derriere

Boy, was I fuming mad
I called Uncle Rodger every name in the book
He says to, “Calm down you Nancy.
Yinz were the ones who grunted and now look.”

We got into a major scuffle
I gave Bear a good one smack to the face
Uncle Rodger was livid
He was throwin haymakers all over the place

When the tussle was over
Pap said givin us a redo was the only fair thing in this case
Uncle Rodger agreed on that one
“Yinz puntin’ or gruntin’?” he asks us
Then I punched Uncle Rodger square in the face

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

001 Ralph Poems

Meet Ralph

001 Meet Ralph

Well, you dimwits.  The time has come.  It’s time you meet a long lost friend of mine, a friend that began it all for me.  A friend that first got me into writing over eight years ago.  It’s time that you meet Ralph.

Ralph is an alter ego character that I created during the MySpace days.  I began Photoshopping my head onto various bodies and gave myself snaggly teeth, crossed eyes, big ears, and crazy costumes.  I posted the Photoshop images to MySpace, and a star was born.  Ralph became a cult sensation.  I had people all across the world following along with Ralph’s misadventures, until one day, I took the site down completely.  Ralph disappeared over night.  It was a sad farewell.

I tried to resurrect Ralph several times over the years unsuccessfully, including on this blog back when very few people were reading.  I figured I’d give it another shot and see where it goes.  Maybe it will end up at the bottom of the lake.

In a nutshell, Ralph is a fiesty, fiery, 15 year old trapped in a 28 year old’s body.   He loves beef jerky, dungeons and dragons, WWF wrestling, ZZ Top, and game shows, including his favorite game show of all time “Love Connection” hosted by Chuck Woolery.  Ralph lives in the basement of his Gram and Pap’s country home in western Pennsylvania.  He fights mightily with his combative Pap, Uncle Rodger, and cousins.  For a further introduction and more photos, click the link here.

I have a bunch of old Ralph material that I might dust off and polish.  We’ll see.  But for now, I’ll leave you with a few poems that Ralph wrote since I was talking about poetry in the previous post.  Hope you enjoy.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

001 Uncle Rogers Hunting Cabin

“Uncle Rodger’s Hunting Cabin”

The one thing about
Uncle Rodger’s hunting cabin
Is that it’s always cozy
He keeps the temperature
Always nice, never too toasty

After a long day of hunting
Might be deer
Might be some caribou
He always treats us kindly
He up and says, “Here, yinz want some brews?”

We kick back a couple cold ones
Have some delicious beef jerky treats
On the fold out couch bed
That’s where Uncle Rodger lets me sleep

Now this one time
I screamed, “Hey Rodger, I seen a rat!”
Uncle Rodger says, “Now Ralph.
We can’t have none of that.”

Sure enough
He whips out a humongous 12 gauge
I couldn’t believe my eyes
As Uncle Rodger lit up the whole damn place

I says, “Holy crap Uncle Rodger!
You’re making holes in the walls!”
He just up and laughs
And then he says, “Ralph, ain’t we havin a ball.”

    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

001 Home Sweet Motorhome

“Home Sweet Motorhome”

I bet yinz will be jealous
To hear I went cross country in Uncle Rodger’s motorhome
I don’t blame yinz one bit
Missin out on them spacious skies and mountain domes

Gram was majorly upset
She couldn’t come along cause of a mild stroke
I had to rub it in on that one
I says to her “Na na na na na” just to get her yoke

Uncle Rodger gave the camper a tune up before we left
We was ready to rock ‘n roll
I called out, “Shotgun!”
But Rodger says,  “Sit in the back with your cousin Joel.”

Joel’s feet smelled like onions
So I asked to switch with Pap at every single stop
Pap says, “Nice try Ralph.”
So I was stuck in the back with my cousin’s smelly socks

Other than that
The trip was goin’ just as smooth as could be
That was until Uncle Rodger swerved
Tryin to avoid a pack of them wild coyotes

We ran clear off the road
We was headed straight for a big ole’ ditch
I screamed for Uncle Rodger to gun it
He says, “Shut up in the back you son of a monkey’s tit!”

The camper was bent all to hell
Joel was cryin’ and Uncle Rodger was mad as a toad
I said, “See Uncle Rodger.
Shoulda’ let me ride shotgun to navigate the road.”

  *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

002 Meet Ralph

The Chris Miss Eve

I’ve told a lot of stories over the past few months.  Stories from childhood, the high school days, working on movies, and many more.  Thought being that it’s July and all, I’d share a Christmas story for my friends that live in the southern hemisphere.   Get you in the holiday spirit.

The story is called “The Chris Miss Eve.”  It’s  a story about a young boy’s uncontainable joy and anticipation for the most exciting day of the year.   That most exciting day being Christmas of course.

I wrote and illustrated The Chris Miss Eve when I was just five years old.  It’s the very first story that I’ve ever written.   My mother saved the story after all these years.  However, there was one page that was ripped and torn, so I took the liberty to revise the page a little.  I hope you enjoy.

001 Chris Miss Eve002 Chris Miss Eve003 Chris Miss Eve007 Chris Miss Eve004 Chris Miss Eve005 Chris Miss Eve006 Chris Miss Eve

HA!  Got you, you dimwit dingalings!  Well, maybe some of you new ones anyway.

It is a sweet story though, and it really is a story that I wrote back when I was five.  Too bad I made a mess of it with the revised page and all.  Just thought it could use a little polish.

I’ve always enjoyed kids’ artwork and stories.  The misspelling of words, the crazy disproportions, and the brilliant colors.  I love how kids draw scribbly, crooked lines all over the place.  Wild and free.  And then, well, somewhere in life someone comes along and insists that you have to draw within the lines.  They tell you that colors should be colored a certain way for it to look right.  You can’t draw a person with purple skin and give them green hair for god’s sake!  So this is the Dimwit’s twisted way of encouraging you to draw outside the lines, choose whatever colors you like best, and never mind what you’ve been told in life, unless what you’ve been told has been something wonderful.

Boi oh boi.  Sorry to pull a fast one on you.  Merry Chris Miss to all, and to all a goodnight.