My Mod !

Wouldn't we be cute

Gidget and I have decided to buy some piece of mind. A piece of scooter history really. Two brand new 1967 Vespa's. Both are 'Super VBC's' . Mines green with tan saddles and hers is candy apple red with cream saddles. 100 miles per gallon! That means that between the two of us, we'll only be contributing about 1.2 percent of our income to Osama Bin Laden and that whole gang of corporate oil junkies.





Plus, if we get hit and killed we look good. I mean their 1967's for gods sake. And this is LA. So... They sell sidecars too. Maybe I could get a sidecar and install an HDTV big screen in there. Lava lamp. V8.





So what do you think?

My life in the bush of dopes

Boy Footy

Back in 1939 I was lucky enough to have been adopted by the master magician Houdini. I'm the one sitting between Houdini and the cowboy. I'm holding my penis. My nick name was George but they called me Footy. We were all part of the 'Goldstein Family Circus'. The guy with the stick is Mr. Goldstein. I was born into the circus. My real father was a stake driver and my Mother is the tall one in the back. No Parking.



One of my jobs in the circus was to lock up Houdini. I'd do it in the nude with my feet. Adds to the excitement. People love watching nude kids lock up Houdini's with their feet. Always a crowd pleaser. Of course back then nude boys in the circus wasn't a bad thing. These days you'd have to wear a bra.



My real Father left the circus in 1928. He wanted a shorter wife. He wandered the globe for 80 years until he found his true love. Rue Hall. Meanwhile my Mother and I got along on knats and flys. Being 8 feet tall my Mother was always able to have the first crack at flys. Plus she wore a shit hat so that helped. Of course Mr. Houdini adopted me shortly after my Father left. He was 5 foot 7.

About 6 months after my father left, my mother had a baby girl. Helen was her nick name. Her real name was 'Godsolehay, Open Wound Flying Baby of the North'. She did a one woman show on Saturdays. Noon to 5. I was her scraper.



After Mr. Houdini did his first water torture bit in 1891, he killed my mother and buried her in a shallow grave in Buckeye Arizona. Right next to the Cash & Carry. I couldn't blame him. She ate a monkey.



People from around the world came to my rescue. They wanted me to leave my adopted Father Houdini. They wanted me to lock up different people with my feet. Or become President. Instead I stayed on the road with my Father. We played at clip joints, bath houses and Bob's Big Boys across the nation. He did card tricks and I started fires. We burned our way from Maine to New Hampshire. No harm no foul.



In 1942 my father died. He was hit by a plane. I was up for adoption again. This time there were lots of volunteers. They waited for me outside my hotel bedroom chanting, "Michael, Michael. I hung my sister over the rail, and there he was. As soon as our eyes met I knew it was him. My new father. Johnnie Carson.

Today I work on the train. Making coffee with my bare feet. I ride the Coast Starlight. My sister gives flu shots to the young and dying. She's married and has 18 kids. Her husbands name is Car Lot.

Well that's my story. Life's been good. See you on the train.

Fuckin Rain

Enough already



I can't take it anymore. This rain is killing me. It's like living in Seattle. Fifteen inches of rain since January. My lawn is mud, my house smells like a wet cat and my car wont start. Can't sleep with all the thunder. Fuckin hill behind me is oozing yellow slime. My hairs been wet since the 5th. Cat wont sleep.

I hope this isn't some religious deal. Fourty days and fourty nights. Well guess what? It's been fourty eight days! Come on God. The parties over.

I'm moving to Tucson. Fuck!

The Joint of Joints!

Carl M. Ferraro 1913 - 2005


Carl Ferraro died late last month. Carl was the proud owner of the Dresden Lounge in Los Feliz. My favorite watering hole.

I first went there with my lovely wife in 1996. We just fell in love with the place. White vinyl seats in the restaurant and swinging jazz in the lounge. Marty & Elayne. The only show in town. Nothing compares.

Marty & Elayne


No visit to the great city of Los Angeles would be complete without a stop at The Dresden. Just remember two things. Number one, enter in the rear! Very important. Don't want to look like a tourist. Number two, arrive late. If your going for dinner, eat late. If your going for the music, wear earplugs.

Good going Carl, where ever you are.

Pumping up

I don't really have time to write this blog because there's always something going on at the gym. I do that Poladee. I do 20 reps. I love the burn you know. I lift weights too. 400 pounds every day. Not all at once but, there's classes as well. Jazzersize, Yogajumpdowns, Step-ups, Step-downs, you know, Powersliders, Bugle Bottoms, Curl-ups, you know, all that shit. And I do it too. All of it too. I could be workin it right now. Workin out my body. Pumping up.

Yesterday I pooped on an 'Active Man Universal Shoulder Clamp Pump'. Hurt too. I can pump my weight in anything so... I'm going to join up with the mussel clubs in town. I could pump up real big then. Pump up with the greats. When I die I want to be all pumped up. I wana look good. I will too.

Bad Neck

I get headackes

This last year was invaluable to me as years go. It was last year about this same time that a nurse told me I might have a minor dislocation of my neck. Those words changed my life. For years I've had problems swallowing. And then about seventeen years ago I stopped turning my head from side to side. That was a red flag for sure I guess. Yet it took me 28 years to see a doctor! Now that's just gotta be a record for a guy with a dislocated neck.

I went to the chiropractor last night. He told me to hold on to these motorcycle type handlebars. He clamped my hands on the bars with these clamps. I had no idea what would come next. He pushed a button and the machine ripped off my arms. So that didn't work. Now what? Well now It's my knee. It's got two small deformitys. I can't kick to one side. I'm thinking of going back to the doctors. So...