Brownicans

2005-01-25T13:56:00.000-08:00

drunkard.com

Someone stole my idea....son of a....
I wonder of they'll give me a discount for a lifetime subscription.

2005-01-12T14:35:00.000-08:00

Morales vs. Pacquiao
March 19, 2005.
Las Vegas MGM Grand

If you are a B and fanatic like me, I know you're excited. If you're not, you should be.

Can't wait.

Brownican road trip anyone?

Real Sex Take Two

2005-01-06T13:05:00.000-08:00

0:00:00
“Two minutes! Tops!”
0:00:24
I jump in the car without bothering to put on my seat belt and keenly drive over to the corner 7/11. Not speeding, just driving briskly, at an anxious pace. Make a right at the stop light and a quick left into the driveway, beats waiting for the light to turn green. Park, hop out and lightly walk in through the front double glass doors.
0:00:48
Aisle 1, top shelf, I have seen them before. I Make my selection and head for the register. Confidently I slap them on the counter top just to have them snatched up by an uneasy attendant. Nonchalantly, she palms them so that they cannot be seen. My chuckle provokes a denying, “What?”. This draws the attention of her partner in immaturity and there it is, the nervous smile on his face.
0:01:07
18?19? And, because there was so much of her, I surmise that she definitely has heard of them, has probably seen one before, talked about them for sure, but, never actually had the opportunity to relish in the use of one. “Fine then!”, she taunts and slaps them back down onto the counter in plain sight for everyone to see. She composes herself and begins her attack, “You could have at least picked the for HER pleasure kind!”. A mediocre attempt to divert her discomfort onto me while my fellow shoppers approach the point of sale.
0:01:29
My response, “Nope! What does it got to do with her?”. Her rash attempt to embarrass me in front of her patrons while her sidekick nervously displays his approval lulls her into a false sense of security. Like a religious person on judgement day. Loudly she embraces the momentum and ask, “All about you? What does she have to do with it?”, as she hands me the box and rolls her eyes. Now I’m laughing hysterically inside while I politely take the box and begin my victory lap towards the exit.
0:01:33
“Yeah!” The hard part is done, obviously, she already said yes.”
0:43:01
I can see the red tail lights on the other side of the translucent curtains, “SSHH!! SSHH!! Wait”, I suggest to her, “Not so loud.” Engine tweets, 2:38AM, tires refuse to leave willingly and squeal with disapproval. The envious bark in accord, “Hit that shit hard!!”
1:11:12
I preen in vain and remove my hands from her throat. She whimpers, wheezes, struggles to fill her lungs, moans from the bowels which have just been scrambled and delectably quivers as I continue in stride.
1:42:00
“You weren’t kidding, you were back in 2 minutes.”

2005-01-05T21:25:00.000-08:00

“Of course you’re important,” he says, but he can’t remember the last time he was able to remember the last time he actually meant it. He just wants to get drunk, and beat her with his fingertips. He wants her skin to feel the way it felt. He wants her skin to make him feel the way it did before he ever touched it. He wants her to shut up when he wants her to shut up. He wants to be free of lies; he wants her to be free of lies too. He wants to hate again, he likes the simplicity of having only one mission. He wants her to pry the shell and rip into him. He wants to be brave and wield the sword from the razors end. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Oh, yes he does.

..
ahh!

Good Morning

2004-12-23T08:14:00.000-08:00

Something cheery for the holidays.....

Some days, I would prefer to soak my mattress in my own blood in lieu of actually getting out of bed. Most days, these days, as I sit in a cesspool right next to the carpool, I hum a monotonous hymn to myself, just to feel the warmth of an endless routine. Usually, it is so loud that I end up missing the freeway off ramp I was intending to exit on. I then chide myself ‘cause I’d like to think that I am not that emotional. Meanwhile, I’ve passed up the exit, again.

At night, melancholy sings me to sleep. In the morning, I sullenly meander out of bed to wade through another non-reality TV meriting peep show of a day. Hunched shoulders, dragging feet, porch lanterns with burnt out lamps in pools of dead insects. Gradients of dark to light gray rainbow through the heavy stank air. Crashing clouds gather miles away from the sun purposely letting it poke fun at me. Gradual decay winces at me from the reflection of my drivers side window as I approach the car. The cadence of my seat belt chime harps at me but is soon drowned out by the buzz in my head leftover from my anger filled overreaction.

Some days, I would like to push my thumbs behind my eyeballs and pop them right out. Others, I would like to rip your lips right off of your face. Yet, here is another full day waiting to make me whimper in pain and succumb to this gluten of time that leads me around by my scrotum.... but all I can seem to think about is how I can’t wait to slither back into bed.

Part one:

2004-12-22T23:21:00.000-08:00

Cigarette smoke clings to every microscopic droplet of vapor in this dark stuffy pool hall. I’m sitting here on my wooden stool at the short end of an L shaped bar, with a perspiring, half consumed pitcher of beer. It is my second. I don’t know why but they are playing classical music, Vivaldi I think? The sound is clear and thunderous. The friendly bartender about four feet in front of me is throwing bottles here and there assembling a fuzzy navel for a balding fat man and his scantily clad fat girlfriend. The young pretty bartender dressed all in white glows under the ultra-violet lights. She looks like a ghost brewing some sort of magic potion. I turn right and face the rest of the pool hall. About a third of the tables are being used. Each delicately lit by soft holy beams of light from somewhere in the high ceiling. In the furthest corner a tall, brawny man hugs and kisses his pretty, petite girlfriend after every shot. Another man, this one playing at one of the center tables wears slacks with a white dress shirt and dark tie; he is alone and actually going through the ritual of using one stick to hit the solids and another for the striped.
“Sir? Sir?” The ghost calls out.
“What?” I snap, before I can stop myself.
“Would you like another pitcher?” She asks somewhat irritated but looking forward to another big tip. I look down, and my pitcher and glass are empty. Well actually my glass has about half an inch left of dancing and singing bubbles. I think their following the music, the angry crescendos and valleys of Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Symphony No.5.
“Hello?” She says. I look up.
“Are you sure I drank this?” I ask trying to remember but unable. After all my memory is not the greatest at remembering where I left off.
“Well, I haven’t seen anyone get anywhere near you.” She yells out with a wry smile.
“Uh! Well I’m not going anywhere so ok, sure.” I throw her a twenty and say, ‘keep the change.’
“Thanks babe.” She says cheerfully, as if she meant it. The empty pitcher and glass disappear. I think to myself ‘Babe?’ I feel like jumping over the counter and breaking one of those thick heavy glass pitchers over her head. Then drinking some of her gushing blood on the rock’s with a dash of lemon, although it might be a little salty. The thought makes me thirsty. As I reach to take another drink I realize my pitcher is almost finished.
“Ma’am? Hello, ma’am? Hey?” I say trying to get her attention.
“Please, sir don’t yell.” She says angry with a purple vein bulging from her forehead.
“I paid for a full pitcher, why didn’t I get it?” I demand, not willing to put up with anymore of her shit. I tug at my collar and realize that I’m wearing the heavy coat that I had removed upon entering the pool hall.
“Sir, you’ve already had three pitchers.” She looks at me intently, planning her next lie. My anger changes to fear and then resignation.
“What? Are you talking to me?” I look up, but there is no one there. The lights over the tables are bright. I can’t focus. I must keep my eyes open. I can be cool.

The well dressed man playing by himself looks up and notices an obvious drunk who’s wearing too much clothes for this place, and keeps on smacking himself in the head. He is sitting at the bar, partially in shadow. He begins swaying back and forth emerging from shadow then falling back into it, over and over again. Being a doctor he wonders whether to approach the ailing man.

Why is it so cold in here? Is it raining? I think it’s raining hard, maybe even snow? Nah! That’s impossible. Those eyes, over there from that man, they are glowing like a dog. But he’s a man, maybe a wolf man? Ha, that’s funny. He keeps on waving that stick around. He knows. Yep, he knows that I know. That light from the sky, or is it the moon on his white hair. Oh! I just pissed myself, I think? Damn no one knows. This is not a good thing. Is he looking at me? Oh fuck! I’m dead again. No! Not again. I have to kill him. Must, I must, yes I will. I do know because it’s so clear. I walk to the car, my car, he will follow me. Here, in here with these people he will be to afraid to, to uh, reveal himself. Oh man! That grin. He has no fear. “Fuck you,” he yells.

The doctor is stunned and chills run up his spine, at the shriek from somewhere deep in this poor mans chest. A bouncer that was standing at the door begins running towards them swerving around tables. The confused doctor turns to look at the bouncer not knowing what to do. The disturbed man hears the rustling and turns with gun in hand to see the approaching bouncer. The bouncers face recognized its fate one moment before his jaw exploded into a thousand globules of flesh and bone…………………..
ahh!

2004-12-02T20:14:00.000-08:00

We don’t have much time right now……..
No! We don’t have enough time…………
I don’t know when there will be time…….
The mouth moves, the wet lips expose the wet flesh inside. You try and look up at he eyes. The eyes, everyone says are the window to the soul. But you can’t focus on them, like when you are focusing on something up close for too long then try and see in the distance, so you look at the mouth. More words come out. You see deeper, into the nesting ground of words and phrases and complaints and complaints. You expect to see the heart in all its red glorious pumping of wet devotion, but instead you find a cesspool of moldy self doubt and acidic anger. You raise your voice and say. “Ok.”
..
ahh!

Fall is in the air, or is that acid rain?

2004-11-25T19:52:00.000-08:00

Thank you Jesus, Lord Savior for all you….Wait a minute. I am home alone and sober on Thanksgiving at this hour because I have to wake up at 3:30am. Fuc…..wait another minute. Being the optimist that I am there is plenty to give thanks for. People love me, I am popular, I have a loaded bank account, and I have a large penis….Fuck Thanksgiving...
ahh!

2004-11-14T23:12:00.000-08:00

Out of the Darkness

As I lay here motionless, fear has a firm grip on me and I can feel the sweat in my palms. What have I done? In my head I can hear myself screaming “STOP”, but they do not hear me. They continue as if I was not there. I can hear the humming of the electricity as they power up the giant machine. Faint voices in the background are saying something but I can’t make it out. Could it be the drugs I was given coursing thru my veins that has clouded my mind? I can feel them moving me under the giant machine then I am blinded by a bright light. A commanding voice shouts, “Don’t move, and focus on the light!” My heart is pounding in my chest, I could not move even If I wanted to.

A small red light appears in the middle of the bright light, then a hand opens my eyes and I can feel the cold metal against my eyeball as they are forced to stay open. Again I hear shouting in my head, “STOP” and again I am ignored. As the hands come close again I hear a small pop like when a grape is crushed in your hands. All goes black. I can feel the darkness against my skin and the fear of living like this for the rest of my life grabs me by the jugular.

The humming of machine is pounding in my ears and I can hear small clicking sounds, “click, click, click, click”, and then the smell. An odor of burning flesh fills the air. It is a strong thick odor and tears start to run down my face. The clicking does not stop for what seems like an eternity then I feel a light brushing against my eyeball and with each stroke the light gets brighter and brighter. Prayers rush thru my head, 15 Hail Mary’s and 15 Our Fathers are promised. The light covers me like a warm blanket on a dark night. I am moved away from the giant machine, I sit up open my eyes and I step out of the darkness.

2004-11-14T10:33:00.000-08:00

Ask and thou shall receive. This is the best photo so far of the Twins. I tried using the can-do-anything Photoshop to wet 13’s shirt but Photoshop couldn’t do it. Damn! damn! technology. But I have heard through the grapevine that an even better photo is on its way via UPS speedy service…. Mr. Bastard is dead, uhh! Who cares?
ahh!

2004-11-10T18:57:00.000-08:00

They were all pointing, some of them were talking shit and others saying congratulations. Today was the first day at my unofficially official, totally for sure new job. I can’t at this moment recall what the four word job title is, but I do know it’s the first time I will have a normal, Monday-Friday morning’s position. There will be a shit load of employees who will look to me for direction and guidance, and I will make sure to lead them astray. The joke is, I will now be required to wear a TIE.
Did he say a tie? Yes folks, this 31 year old kid who masturbates more often in one week than all his previous tie wearing days is going GQ. Should I go GQ casual with kakis and chinos, or GQ hi-tech with dark menacing colors that demand respect and fear? I must decide quickly to test the whole theory of women throwing themselves at men of power. Today while using the elevator this women thrust her breast in my face at the mere mention of my new position. Just imaging how that intoxicating power will be amplified when the ladies are exposed to the new GQ’d Orator. Hmmm! Which begs the question? Would ‘Number 13’ finally succumb and show the Brownican audience her (sort of) God give-in mounds of love if I were to post a picture of myself in my new GQ look?
.
ahh!

How far right?

2004-11-03T14:16:00.000-08:00

Like attempting to hold back a monstrous winter storm ocean wave with your hands. Let it push you to the cold bottom, and burry your face in the sand. When it lets go, that will be one less thing you fear. But only let it happen once. Dread descends as the next wave builds. We now know it is coming. We need to take to the streets in dissent, not to dispute but in warning. Use your torches to light as many fusses as possible. Post it in every porch and business that the war is on. Warn the guards of the joint that no rule book will protect them. Millions of hands joined in the effort, forming an impenetrable wall...
ahh!

Live election coverage: meant to be read later.

2004-11-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

It is 6:08pm…Barack Obama the great speaker that surprised everyone at the democratic convention has been declared the winner in Illinois. He is only the third black to be elected to the Senate. According to my statistical analysis I predict that Kerry will win. Seriously.
It is 7:46pm…Despite the fact that exit polls are showing record numbers of minority, and young (18-29) voters, the swing states are looking scary for Kerry. I hereby retract my previous projection for a Kerry win. Sorry.
It is 8:23pm…What the hell! I just saw a commercial for gaming casinos, with Jesse Ventura. He looks freakish. Bald, but only on top he has long hair around the sides. His hair is Very dark and the facial hair is weird. Ohh! And we are losing ground in the Senate, fuck.
It is 10:06pm…With 87% of the votes counted Kerry has caught up, to within 100,000 votes in Ohio. I think we are fucked. But I will still be hopeful. Right now I will go to Little John’s, win a couple games of pool, and drink a few mugs of beer. When I come back I will check in.
It is 1:09am…..I’m buzzed. I’m depressed. I’m angry. I’m incredulous. There was some guy at Little John’s tonight who didn’t realize how drunk he was. This guy was asked to leave and he refused. There is some guy at the White House who is disliked like no other in our lifetime, but he refuses to leave. We lost the White House, we lost more of congress, we will lose the Supreme Court. But this is the United States of America, we will be ok.
It is 9:09am……I retract my previous statement. According to my thermo-geo-electrified analysis we are all doomed. We are going to die! Oh! Jesus Lord help..

2004-10-29T23:35:00.000-07:00

Deep darkness is weighing everything down. It’s a weeknight, past midnight. The cold wind whistles as it passes my ears, and the drizzle has left my soaked shirt heavy on my shoulders. Damp pants and cold feet make walking difficult. This street is deserted, but I already knew it would be. Every now and then a car will pass me by, slowly, on the left or right. The light drizzle is only visible when looking up at the humming orange street lights. I’ve been walking for about an hour now. I am walking down the center of the street, and have been since I left the hotel room. No idea where I’m going, but then that’s been the case all my life. This must be a nice area in the day, there are hardly any cars parked on this tree lined street. The houses are mostly hidden behind meticulously maintained shrubbery that says look but don’t cross. No lonely or angry dogs barking. The night looks intently at me, reads me. Horny crickets are calling out for a mate somewhere to the left. I don’t think I’m mad anymore, don’t feel anything. Yet I dread going back where I came from. Fear of ending up where I started. A block ahead a truck pulls into this street. The truck is rolling down the middle, not very fast. It gets illuminated for a second as it passes underneath a streetlight, then its dark body blends into the darkness except for those pale eyes, then it’s lit up again. It appears to be some sort of delivery truck. The overhead cabin light comes on. The lit up driver is looking down. Maybe a map? He looks up for instants of time, but mostly to the sides. Maybe he is close to finding the right house, the right family. Every one of my steps is now slower and more hesitant. But I stay my course. My feet enter shadow and I leave the area that is under the false orange warmth. At this rate I won’t make it to the next light before he catches up to me. A faint smile appears. Isn’t this what I wanted? I’m scared or nervous, not sure. I push my hands deep into my pockets. My eyes don’t leave the drivers head. Hoping he would look up. Hoping he would stop. Four houses down. My legs don’t want to move anymore. I stand there, a dark figure in a shadow, strong and weak. Three houses. I look up at the cloud filled sky; tiny insignificant droplets touch my face. Two houses. His headlights are now completely engulfing me. I can no longer see into the vehicle. One house. I can feel the vibrations on the ground and the warmth of the headlights. My eyes are closed, but I see a red glow. There is a warm immensely heavy pressure on my chest. My face smashes into the grill. But instead the driver pulled into a driveway before reaching me. I turn around and begin walking. It will be different this time.
ahh!

RED

2004-10-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

If FEAR affects your decision
the TERRORist are prevailing.

If FEAR is your only justification
the TERRORist have won.

2004-10-25T23:21:00.000-07:00

She looks beautiful, thin and refined. She will never say no. She is fast and methodical. She will now be sleeping in my room, yet have no strings attached. She will shut up at the touch of a button even though she has the loudest lungs. She is my wireless Dell 8400...
ahh!

2004-10-21T16:06:00.000-07:00

The righteousness of my revolutions comes into question when so many battles are lost. The existence of my elusive destination comes into question with every fork of the road. But despite these setbacks my current location feels right as apposed to yesterday. There is one developing ominous sign. More conflicts are being understood, or worse, accepted……Welcome back Brownicans and Twins.
ahh!

Everyone is courting latinos.

2004-10-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

First I laughed, and then I felt insulted by the biaaaatch. I assume she is a she, the commentee from the previous posting. But reflection has a way of changing your mind. She is correct, Brownicans are lazy. I mean, I am lazy; my fellow editors on the other hand are umm busy. Aztequito for example recently purchased a digital camera, his first I believe. Once he is done familiarizing himself with it, at home, in the bedroom maybe we can expect to see some of his work on Brownicans. Vile on the other hand is dealing with personal issues that are affecting his temperament. Just a couple of weeks ago I was witness to one of Viles explosive overreactions. A harmless cholito, descendant of a long line of distinguished veteran cholos was overstaying his uninvited welcome at a family function. The cholito was asked to leave. When the cholito mocked a frustrated Vile a deafening clap of thunder exploded from the shocked face of the victim as Vile pimp slapped him. Luckily there were people present to restrain Vile from beheading the cholito with his sharp pocketknife. Vile stood there in 2 a.m. darkness with the look of Arabian death in his eyes. You would think that with all this virulent rage in his soul there would be plenty to write about. Once again I would like to thank the biaaaatch for inspiring me to wake up from my stupor. Soon I will post details for the biggest Brownican caravan in history, our goal is for four + people to show up this time.
ahh!

Sure! Iraq is ready for elections.

2004-10-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

Readers far and wide have asked me what I thought of yesterday’s vice-presidential debate. Well actually, only my six-year old niece asked. It appeared to me that the debate was pretty much even. They both got good hits and misses. The biggest surprise was an indifferent Mr. Cheney finally admitting the absence of any significant connection between 9/11 and Iraq. Mr. Edwards himself proved entertaining when he temporarily lost his composure when questioned about his experience and presidential qualifications. So much for the fearsome Cheney coming to the rescue of his puppet, Uhh! President. This in conjunction with the upcoming final report from the American chief weapons inspector in which he asserts no Iraqi weapon programs where active at the time of the American invasion. Things are looking good for us, sane people.
~I was disappointed to learn that Michael Moore is not selling Fahrenheit 9/11 for ten bucks as he had hinted. In spite of this, buy a copy for any loved ones who suffer from ignoritis realitis.
~I expelled a piece of liver while sitting on the toilet. Does anyone know if I can make money of it, or should I just throw it in the trash?

ahh!

2004-10-05T13:06:00.000-07:00

No I won’t let it die despite my neglect. I’ve been waiting for the volcano to blow and it just burps. I burp and burp….perhaps some encouragement tonight from the Vice-Presidential debate? Or a light from the Dodgers as they take on the best in show Cardinals, although they are losing at this moment. My flu is withering, while my drunkn gut is growing. Santana sucked, or was I just too drunk. Fuck them, all of them. I'm running towards the light. ..
ahh!

2004-10-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

STOP. Your location is the culmination of countless ejaculations...
ahh!

2004-09-26T21:38:00.000-07:00

The spotless black car is slicing through the thick night air. A continuously adjusting patch of yellow races ahead as the headlights try and cut through the darkness. The road curves, causing bright reflections of streetlights and buildings to stampede over the hood, windshield, roof, and trunk. In the center of the backseat in shadow sits an angry force, a jealous one. The driver is also drunk and driving as such. In the front passenger seat sits uncommon beauty, she also is envious. All windows are rolled down. The wind roars as it races through the inside of the car. The two aspiring lovers in front begin kissing aggressively their hair and clothes fluttering with the cool wind of a fading summer. The speed is increased. The curves come quick, and unsympathetic. His left hand on the wheel, the right one gripping tightly the back of her neck. Moans. The rear passengers’ shadowed expression regretting the deal he spawned. The girl jerks at the steering wheel. The car swerves, a muffled laugh. Without loosening his grip, he twists both their heads to get a better view. His foot never leaves the gas pedal as he barely manages to swerve away from the oncoming concrete wall. His mind returns to her warm tongue. When again he looks up he comprehends their street is a dead end. His foot rushes the brake pedal. The driver maintains control of the car while the tires distort gripping with all they’ve got. The car comes to a jerking stop. She begins laughing. The backseat passenger is frozen. They are all held back by their seatbelts. The driver turns to look at the insatiable female next to him. Outside the dark night is silent. She looks at the unfulfilled driver for a century. Then rubbing the smeared lipstick off, she says uncaringly. “You’re all right, but I’ll stick to my man.” The lustful girl turns to the salacious guy in the back seat. He looks at her then him, then out the window. Not sure where they ended-up the driver makes a u-turn in a futile attempt to get back where they started...
ahh!

evidence in the reflection.

2004-09-20T13:18:00.000-07:00

.After seeing my cars “vote the fckr out” sign, a coworker (lets call him Mana) wrote on his car “Bush sucks.” Not very original, but hey he doesn’t drink alcohol either. Then one morning when going to his car which had been parked in his driveway he was confronted with sabotage. Someone had erased most of the word sucks, and turned the c into an o. It then read Bush ok. In addition they left him a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker on his windshield wiper. Damn funny, I thought. A couple of days after that a balding middle-aged republican who is in charge of something or other at my workplace began taking pictures of my car. There are two buildings, several departments and at the very least 175 employee cars during the day. My fellow shop steward later told me that the fascist photographer was very upset and was going to make a big stink about it because several people were offended by my crudeness. I went home and changed the sign to something about supporting freedom of speech, and vote Kerry. A whole week passed and I haven’t heard anything about the sign. Then yesterday I wanted to change it again to the “elephants have gone mad vote Kerry,” but the first word was just too big. Then Arnold (formerly referred to as Chump, until he got mad) came up with the perfect word, as seen above. Dumbo is not only referring to the elephant party but also to Mr. Bush’s small ‘stature’, big ears and childish intelligence. Hopefully he won’t triumph like the character. Comm’on people lets all write the same thing on our windshields to spread the word….Uhh! Don’t all get up at once.
ahh!

2004-09-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

~Lets pretend these Dodger stadium fireworks are at the Zocalo in Mexico City celebrating Mexico’s independence. Wuh hoo!
~Yet another middle-aged Ramone has died. Farewell Johnny Ramone, 55. The three dead Ramones have died within the last four years, hmm!
~According to the New York Times a classified report prepared for President Bush by the National Intelligence Council and approved by the acting director of the CIA forecast three possible scenarios for Iraq by the end of 2005. The most pessimistic of which says there will be a civil war. The most optimistic one predicts a fragile stability, in other words what they have now. But I assure you they will be pissed-off if it is still like this one year from now. To top it off this same council has been accused in the past of being too optimistic. On a related note: $18.4 billion of our money was given for the reconstruction of Iraq for this year. This does not include money for the military or money spent last year. Only one billion has been spent for that purpose because the construction companies have been scared off, so they decided to give $3billion of that money to the escalating military situation. Listen to President Bush speak though and it sounds as if everything is hunky-dory.

ahh!

your god, my devil

2004-09-11T15:50:00.000-07:00

Stubborn to an extreme that I never thought a Brownican,
or at least who I thought was a Brownican, could ever be.
A bush fanatic. A fanatic in every sense of the word.
“I want this, you want that, WE NEED this.”
From the streets, from the hard walk of life..... I never imagined.
Enough ignorance to elude the intelligent conversation
which was suppose to have taken place.
A good enough memory to regurgitate the half truths that an
extremist has filled his head with.
Arrogance that flows from the bottle
to the pit of his stomach
and out his throat like it was a corrected version
of the bible written by god himself.

Solitude

2004-09-11T15:26:00.000-07:00

He’s the kind of OG alcoholic who places his beer on the floor next to him
while there are plenty of empty bar tables around.
She’s got ring worm on her breast,
right at the point of plunge.
She remains undeterred, worm or no worm,
a consistent display of her female beacons
is always there for the appreciating.
He, the other he, is too cool to care about her cleavage,
much less about her worm.
He always has this look of indifference on his face,
an air of disinterest about him while she is around.
"I can care less about her....", nobody believes him, except her,
‘cause everyone knows that he is the Brownican in her.
I would imagine that he only fucks her from behind while the worm is around.
Terrible, from what I can see,
the preferred position is definitely from the front.
But I’m not too sure if he uses a condom.
He, the 3rd he, is a talker but he doesn’t say much,
his tongue is handcuffed by the english language.
The frustration on his face however,
is never lost in the translation
as he desperately looks around for help
until his eyes finally settle on me.
He rattles off 3-1/2 words per second, pauses,
confirms that there is no language barrier between us,
pauses once again
and with a sudden sense of empowerment,
he keenly finishes his truth.
Everyone waits for the interpretation........I do not do him justice.
I feel guilty for a second
until he decides that he would like to share another
emphatic philosophical statement with his doubtful friends.
Then, I am annoyed all over again.
Annoyed like she is, yes, another she.
She has gotten abusive with the OG about his stumbling, his mumbling
and his all around unprofessional demeanor
during his attempt to beat her like a man
in a competitive game of billiards.
She,
the 80+ year old woman who is here alone and drinks pepsi all night,
defiantly,
kicks his ass.

Wrong-Way Bush - In the war on terror, the worst defense is a bad offense. By William?Saletan

2004-09-09T16:37:00.000-07:00

Wrong-Way Bush - In the war on terror, the worst defense is a bad offense. By William?Saletan

2004-09-07T09:49:00.000-07:00

Our Brownican lady has sent us another photo of her friends. It appears that she went to the Erotic Women store to buy supplies without us. Yesterday or today was/is Vile's birthday, so she sent them over to me while thinking of him. Here Vile your sloppy seconds.

ahh!

2004-09-06T18:04:00.000-07:00

I'm seeing clearly.
The ruffling feathers of the white bird a hundred feet above me. The smooth droplet of water making it's way down my cold glass of ice-tea.
I'm hearing clearly.
The indecisive buzz behind the music. The gentle stride of the pen leaving its trail on the thick brown paper.
I smell clearly.
The slow burn of the parched leaf that fell on the dying embers of the barbecue grill. The residue of ketchup on my lips.
But most of all, I feel clearly.
I feel incapable creating something, anything excellent or beautiful. I feel full of love, which has spoiled due to lack of use. I feel like the cop who everyone wants on standby, but then makes everyone uncomfortable when he sticks around.
But then again, don't WE all. We stand around waiting for what might come next.

ahh!

2004-09-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

Like so many other young and semi-young Brownicans, G-Man spent quite a sum on a cool thumping sound system that everyone around his car could feel. Like so many others, G-Man's sound system was stolen. For a while G-Man drove around town with a boombox in his back seat that sounded great but took up one entire seat. I don't know what happened with that boombox. He then started driving around town with a smaller boombox and then that too was gone. But the unwavering G-Man adapted to the times and got himself the above pictured audiophile, bass thumping sound system he carries in his car. Cheers to another example of Brownican resourcefulness....Good news from Florida. The biggest undecided state with 27 electoral votes didn't really get a chance to watch Mr. Bush speak due to all day hurricane tv coverage. I told you God himself is voting Democrat this time around.

ahh!

2004-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

Some conservatives have a sense of humor as well. Click on the picture to read the stickers. The sketching on the glass, I don't completely understand. The republicans in New York on the other hand are making my blood boil. I thought the issue of connecting Saddam's Iraq to terrorism or "terror" as Mr. Bush likes to call it, had been finally resolved with the bi-partisan 9-11 Commission report stating that there was NO connection between the two. But there they were on the friggin republican podium combining the two issues once again. Giuliani, the Terminator (easier to spell), Dick Cheney, and others saying the war on "terror" had brought us to Iraq. No! Mr. Bush's personal vendetta is what got us stuck in Iraq. This constant strumming of the lie is making its way into America's subconscious. Other than lying, both Giuliani's and Terminator's speech's were pretty good. The best surprise has been watching the Bush daughters trying to sound cool by bringing up topics such as Outkast, and instead looking retarded like their father. Speaking of retarded, Mr. Bush is speaking tonight at the convention. Hopefully the teleprompter blows a fuse and he becomes so distraught that he vomits all over the podium.

ahh!

2004-08-31T09:50:00.000-07:00

I have been driving my car around town for a few days now, and have gotten mostly thumbs up. The best reaction though has been a trucker who honked his thunderous honker trying to get my attention in slow congested freeway traffic. Once I looked up he stuck half his body out the window mouthing something and giving me a big thumbs down. I am debating what to write next...

ahh!

2004-08-25T09:42:00.000-07:00

A Brownican in financial distress? No, it can't be. Well whatever his reason this particular Brownican, (lets call him Chump) carried his 5 gallon water jug almost half filled to the local Ralph's CoinStar machine. People stared, giggled and they pointed but Chump was undeterred, standing just a few feet from the only entrance/exit into the busy store. Chump began pouring in the coins as a couple of gawkers began guessing the amount of money in the jug.
"I bet it has $350."
"No! I think it has $291."
Chump himself tries to lower expectations. "I hope it goes over $100."
We saw shoppers come in the store then exit, having completed their shopping. Chump continued the stream of brown and gray coins that fed the greedy machine, .089 cents for every dollar collected. A couple of employees would repeatedly appear, get close and look over Chumps shoulder to see what the tally was. A departing shopper tells his little son about all the money in that man's piggybank. Chump continued to feed the beast, as the line of regulars wanting to use the CoinStar machine grows longer. We all talk about The Machine and how it has impacted their lives, some come every week others every month, but they were all in awe of Chumps 5 gallon water jug. A store clerk approaches and offers one of the regulars, a pregnant woman a chair, "I know that you have been standing a long time," he says. I go walk around the store and buy a few things including water for Chump who is starting to show signs of fatigue. I get back and the store manager approaches Chump "You will have to come back tomorrow morning for the money because I don't have that much here right now," he says. Chump then makes a joke about returning with another jug and everyone laughs. Then finally the last few coins rattle down the machines throat. $487.48, everyone is smiling especially Chump. He does not mind having to pay $43 dollars for the service. As we walk out of the store he begins making plans for two jugs next time one with silver and one for pennies, sounds like a good Brownican retirement plan with proper investment diversification.

ahh!

2004-08-24T13:05:00.000-07:00

The fog is clearing; behold the mountains that signal you to dock... We at Brownicans have always been proponents of improvement to the physical landscape, be it the forest or bigger boobs. Imagine how proud we were to learn that one of our very own Brownican lady's was blessed with the bravery and money to improve this dreary worlds landscape. 13's my lucky #, we salute you, and encourage all women to take guidance from your heroism. If we all ask nicely maybe we could get more pictures with different angles and lighting. And if there are any others out there with surgical or temporary improvements your photos are more than welcomed.

ahh!

2004-08-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

Do not become ALARMED! but push the _____ button.
ahh!

2004-08-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

Look mija! You could get the clothes there.
Shut UP ma!
I bet you that you like some of it. Not all of it is hoodrat shit. You remember your aunt Ofelia? She's always looking classy, better than most other girls.
Maa! Get it through your crack-head, I AM NOT A STRIPPER.
Mija, you're not fat, and even if you were fat it don't matter, they pay for the show not the float.
Just shut up ma! Why aren't you a stripper?
Na. My ass is all tore up.

ahh!

2004-08-12T13:51:00.000-07:00

-God is warning Florida with two tropical storms to shape up for the Nov. 2 election, or else he is going to send a firmware update to all the alligators of the state reprogramming their diets to rely only on human flesh.
-Mexico gave a boring Olympic soccer performance against Mali in its first game, with a 0-0 tie. Their next competitor, South Korea will not be so lenient. Boxing coverage starts on Saturday, for those interested.
-A quote from army investigator Paul Arthur looking into the whole Iraqi prison scandal. "It was just for fun, kind of venting their frustration."
- We should do steroids and then get tested, resulting in nationwide media coverage of the "Brownican doping scandal."

ahh!

2004-08-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

The heat makes me sleepy. The heat makes me want to drink. The heat makes me hate the whole revolving earth and seasons phenomenon. The heat makes my body feel damp. The heat seems to make people around me smell. The heat makes my eight year-old, neglected car groan in pain. But not all is bad in summerland. The heat makes my genitals hang looow.

ahh!

2004-08-09T00:30:00.000-07:00

"Are you a democrat?" A simple question that when asked always results in some anguish. I stutter and try to explain that while I am registered as a democrat I will vote for anyone whom I feel would fit the office best. After all who wants to be a stooge for a political party controlled by unknowns from an unknown place. I will vote my conscience. I will vote for the person who speaks their mind and does the right thing unafraid of political ramifications. Yeah right! Unfortunately it is not that easy. I wont waste my vote on unelectable candidates from a third party, no matter how saintly he/she might be. Of course it isn't fair, but that is how the system works. The process isn't futile after all it did deliver Thomas Jefferson, Franklin Roosevelt, J.F.K., Harry Truman, and Bill Clinton among others. Even within the party's themselves, for a politico to rise to the level of presidential contention he must have the national party's support and in order to have that support he must have shown a history of party-line politics. So we end up where we started, as a stooge for a party that feeds us a constant stream of white male's who supposedly feel our pain. Should the Republicans be considered? The Republican Party is currently under the control of the conservative right. Conservative means 'someone who opposes change' while liberal means someone who is 'open to change,' well this country needs some change. And I know that I stand far left of where the current administration is on most issues. So I say we join the democrats with more fervor than ever before. We march with the Democrats who brought us all the above named presidents. We ought to become the NRA of the Democratic Party, if we ever expect to see a Brownican as president. So the next time someone inquires about my political affiliation I will quickly declare myself a Democrat, without reservation.

ahh!

2004-08-05T12:13:00.000-07:00

This photo was requested by Vile to make a point in connection with the fight going on at the July 28 posting below. Aztequito did in fact drop the purse and run when the camera was pointed at him.
ahh!

Drunk white girls in miniskirts.

2004-08-03T11:27:00.000-07:00

Some things to look forward to:
-November will make Bush-son a one term president like his Bush-dad.
-Trent Reznor is finally seriously working on a NIN album to follow up his 1999 work The Fragile. The news is that Dave Grohl is laying most of the drum tracks, how cool is that. The album will go on sale early 2005.
-The Miami Heat will come to L.A. on Christmas day to play the Lakers for the first time at the Staples Center. I bet that the Shaq man will drop or slam Mr. Accused rapist at least once.
-Despite the fact that the price of crude oil just broke a new record high, I am sure that at some point this year gas will be widely available for less than two dollars a gallon. Ha Ha! to those of you who have trendy-thirsty-overpriced trucks.
-Who remembers the assassination of the journalist for the news magazine Zeta in Tijuana who was uncovering major corruption in local and state government in the late eighties? The two people who were convicted of the assassination were employees of Hank Rhon who now has won the mayoral race in Tijuana. Hank, who shockingly enough is a PRI member, is said to be worth $500 million dollars, and father of 18. The action is gonna get good down south.
-Finally, I am waiting for some results from those expensive male enhancement pills.

ahh!

2004-08-02T11:34:00.000-07:00

Our grandmother died yesterday evening. The giant lady left behind her little brown body with wispy white hair surrounded by family and friends. She is now waking up somewhere brighter and warmer.

ahh!

2004-07-29T00:31:00.000-07:00

Written by Aztequito in recognition of Brownican's grandmother, at the conclusion of her amazing life of 99 years. She will be joining our grandfather who died four years ago.
Sentado en el suelo con los pensamientos cruzando por mi mente y en el cuarto se escuchan las vozes de mi familia que platican y se rien. Pero por debajo de esa alegria esta rodando el miedo y la tristesa que trai la cruel rialidad de este momento. Mi familia aqui unida pero con una impotencia que desespera y encabrona. "La Senora" de esta familia esta ayi, en esa cama con el peso de los anos ensima. En cada arruga se ve el cansancio du sus 99 anos. Su cuerpo fragil decansando. En momentos se rie y la luz se le regresa a su cara. Que requerdo estara viviendo? Una amiga infantil? Un recuerdo de sus hijos o de sus nietos? Yo quiero pensar que es la alegira que siente cuando ve el amor de su familia que esta aqui con ella. Sonrie por que a vivido una vida llena de momentos alegres, y que los momentos tristes fueron pocos. Que su vida fue llena de amor de su familia. Quiero pensar que ella no tiene ningun remordimento, que no siente ningun miedo. Ella merese eso y mas. Recuerdo platicando con mis tios y mi madre. Los contavan de la mujer fuerte que no se dejaba de nadien. Que para protejer a su familia no le importaba llegar a los punos y casi matar. Los contavan de la mujer que con sus manos ayudaba a muchos superar el dolor. Sobando quitava no solo el dolor de sus cuerpos, si no tambien el dolor de sus almas. Ella tiene el don de la fuerza. La fuerza de espiritu. Gente lo sabia, lo sentian cuando estaban con ella. Ellos querian de su fuerza, de su fortalesa. Querian sentir un poco de lo que miraban en ella. Para muchos ella era "La Sobadora", para mi era mi abuelita. Sentado aqui recuerdo los veranos que estuve con ella. Como tenia que barrer y limpiar el patio junto con mi Abuelo. En las noches los sentavamos para ver sus novelas y tomar chocolate. Mi premio por ayudar fue tomar el autobus al Centro de Los Angeles para ir al Cine Million Dollar a ver las peliculas en espanol. Recuerdo que no me gustava ver las peliculas, lo que yo queria es ir a McDonalds despues de la funcion. Ella nunca entendio por que me gustava tanto comer ayi. Me decia "eso no es comida, mejor vamos a la casa y te ago unos frijoles" Que sonrisa me da cuando recuerdo esos tiempos. De nino no entendia lo importante que fueron esos momentos, pero ahoy que la veo cansada y debil como me da gusto de saber que yo pude estar con elle esos veranos. Que pude recibir su amor, sus enseniansas, y ohala como muchos un poco de su fuerza. Se me llena el pecho de orgullo cuando veo a MI familia. Hijos, nietos, visnietos y si se puderia tataranietos aqui dando amor y ensenando le a mi abuelita que la queremos y que la vamos a extranar. Entendemos que esta cansada y que ya espero mucho tiempo mi abuelo para estar de nuevo con ella. Yo se que la familia daria lo que sea por evitar qualquier sufrimiento que puderia estar sintiendo esta gran mujer. Cada hora, cada minuto, cada segundo es el enemigo y al ves la salvacion. Cuando Dios se lleve a mi abuelita voy estar trisrte, pero no por ella, si no por nostros que no la vamos a tener aqui con nosotros. Welita....... Welita.......... ya te espera mi Welito. Descanse mi Prieta. Descanse.
Aztequito.

ahh!

2004-07-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

In response to Mr. Vile's accusation of inaccuracies, I will give you the one about being in a hunt for a fat girl. It was said as a joke but it WAS said, so it is not technically inaccurate (politician speak). Someone thinks their good at pool because they beat me once. Ohh wait! I lost every game. Damn....Watch Kerry speak on Thursday evening at the convention. Hopefully he will be as good as Bill Clinton and U.S. senator hopeful Barack Obama who was friggin great.

ahh!

2004-07-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

We are back from Baja California, in time to watch the Democratic National Convention in Boston. Damn! Bill Clinton is still one great cigar-loving speaker. Speaking of cigars, we bought "Cuban" cigars in Rosarito they where...Wait! Lets start at the beginning. After repeated explanation and clarification we had agreed that Vile would pick me up at 5:17a.m. Saturday morning. Lets just say that two hours and a dozen calls later he showed up. Off we went south to meet up with the rest of our crew. Like usual some flaked out and four was our final tally. The tourist towns are beautifully sad and vibrant cities that yell in one ear about their love for you, while whispering the lies you want to hear into the other. I guess that is every vacation spot, and I guess that is why everybody goes back.

ahh!

2004-07-27T22:01:00.000-07:00

The Mexican flag just another souvenir? I can't imagine someone sober driving back with one of these sticking out of their car.

ahh!

2004-07-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

Started drinking soon after. Surely this is what the locals drink.

ahh!

2004-07-27T21:57:00.000-07:00

Then the alcohol induced keen eyesight began to awaken
ahh!

2004-07-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

Man did we eat. Tacos al pastor anyone? I can still taste them. Perhaps because he ate to much, your's truly went to a Mexican ATM that was in english and withdrew 100pesos instead of dollars.
ahh!

2004-07-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

What to look at, the tourist or the locals? We continued to eat and drink and try different clubs. Finally settling in one filled with cool locals. Vile was searching for a fat girl with big tits who wouldn't say no, but I suppose he didn't find one, or maybe she did say no. I was drunk and vaguely remember going to eat one more time.

ahh!

2004-07-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

The view out of one of our hotel rooms was nice the other faced a chapel. Vile woke up feeding the toilet several times, I woke up with a slight hangover but the other two woke up with smiles and saying something about screaming in bed. We also learned a lot about a certain someone's sordid and shocking past in Rosarito.

ahh!

2004-07-27T21:42:00.000-07:00

We also went to Puerto Nuevo and Tijuana to eat, drink and eat, drink. Puerto Nuevo is cool and Tj not so much. In Tj every business seems to be a pharmacy, club or souvenir shop covered in graffiti. All the while well-trained indigenous begging kids accost you.

ahh!

2004-07-27T21:34:00.000-07:00

The trip was very cool. We ate, laughed and drank enough to last several days. But you can never escape reality.
The whole "lawn is greener on the other side" theory is evident on the border as the massive inflow of California plates floods Mexico, at the same time the mostly hidden masses linger on the hilly slopes and vast deserts waiting for the perfect moment to dart across to the ever-increasing Brownican Nation.

ahh!

2004-07-23T22:15:00.000-07:00

Nano my self-pleasuring dog left our home a few days ago and hasn't come back. Let me know if you see him, he will most likely be in the extreme fetal position....Some of the editorial staff at Brownicans is heading south to the motherland, or is it fatherland? We hope to restore our Browniconian energy in Ensenada.
This will be as a result of purchasing handcrafted items from Mexico's poor indigenous people intended for tourist (what?)
Avoiding the water at all cost and still ending up loose.
Eating tons of food at every street corner.
Evangelicalizing more members to the I Hate Bush Church.
Getting drunk for 72 hours.
But mainly, getting out of our beloved L.A.

ahh!

2004-07-22T14:11:00.000-07:00

Shaq's disassembled bed on route to Florida?....The national deficit went from half a trillion dollars to positive territory during Clinton's eight years in office. On September 30 when the current fiscal year ends it is expected that the deficit will be $500,000,000,000. It took George W. Bush less than four years to bring the deficit back to where it was. He of course blames HIS war on terrorism, not HIS massive tax cuts. Who says republicans aren't fiscally responsible?....Surprise surprise the 9/11 commission found that although miniscule Iran had more connection with Al Qaeda than did Iraq. But who was the easier fight?...How about this one? New food rations soon to be sent to Iraq are super dehydrated to make them light and small. The soldier then pours in water through a membrane causing the packet to burst out into a prepared meal. The cool part is, soldiers can pour in dirty water that the membrane filters through osmosis. The soldiers are told they can even urinate into the packets, but not all the time lest they suffer from kidney failure. They should demonstrate it in one of their commercials hyping their technological superiority....Sorry Broken.

ahh!

2004-07-21T11:34:00.000-07:00

Last night for the first time, a tear spilled out of my eye over a movie. It wasn't a movie about cute, orphaned, disabled kids. It wasn't a movie of unrequited love, or even of George Bush getting re-elected. It was about finding meaning in one's life, about honor and loyalty. It got me a'thinkn. How do we find meaning in a boring and pointless existence? Do we trudge along day after day hoping for a magnificent soon to be revealed purpose? Is there some good in the world as a result of our existence? Do we stand up when it is necessary for someone to stand up? I sometimes see myself making a brave decision of life and death when faced with a dire black and white situation, but I have yet to be tested. Unfortunately life doesn't usually make it a habit of testing people with dire black and white situations. Life usually throws thorny little tests at you on a daily basis. Should I stop waiting for the real test and pay attention to the little complicated fucker's? Of course I should. One day I won't have to pay attention, there will be no need to keep records of every person's loyalty requirement; it will be simple like truth....Yesterday an infantry soldier became the 900th American to splatter his blood on George Bush's White House.

ahh!

2004-07-19T13:25:00.000-07:00

I have just learned that discussing more than one topic per post is most un-blog like. I suppose this explains Broken's distress at previous Brownican postings. Anguish is the last thing that we here at Brownican want to cause our dear readers. We will for a moment curtail this multidirectional onslaught of ideas until further evaluation and inter office discussion. In the meantime check out those big boobs.

ahh!

2004-07-18T23:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was as right as any day had ever turned out. The world was there for the taking, and Aso planned on taking a lot. Then something got confusing overnight. While dreaming of fantastical world domination, paranoia grabbed one of his balls and crushed it. Now this terribly bright morning is quiet and nervously nonevent full. He continuously adjusts his walking speed attracting attention while attempting not to. He had done everything right. The fertilizer was from a huge busy warehouse in another state, he had done enough research so as to not need help selecting the right one, most importantly that it contain no less than 32% nitrogen. The other ingredients like the standard gas and oil are not only inexpensive, but also easy to come by. The remote control came from a toy car that had been sent to the dumpster over a month ago, rigging it only required a couple of minutes and a 9volt battery. Mixing the tasty somewhat bloody treat was even easier. The only time Aso worried about being seen was when placing the cylindrical ashtray in the path of those that had always been starved for some fire, and even then he was lightly disguised and mind-numbingly ordinary. In reality he would be the first to admit that it wasn't only for altruistic reasons, but also jealousy, a profound jealousy of the nonchalant ness that only ignorance could supply. They all seem to brush off meaning while in reverence of ideas and events that will be forgotten as soon as the next idea or event comes along. Aso on the other hand would flow effortlessly through crowds and bump into thoughts. The constant and time-consuming questioning turned a calendar into a reference book not a planner.
This morning was no different. The walk to school took days if not weeks to complete. Dozens of scenarios would tell him to leave. Get lost in the bog of day-to-day civilization, while dozens of others told him that everything was going just as planned. Asos paranoia was like everyone else's; you couldn't see how silly it was until it was over. There was no one waiting for him behind the next building or at the school. No one looked at him funny. No one cared. About him anyways, but they sure seemed to care about the dead guy. There were a whole lot of familiar faces. The man women that co-hosted the morning news on channel five, she was somewhat more feminine looking in person. There was mostly local talking heads, and one real reporter from one of the networks. Aso stood there for a moment taking in the whole panorama. A dozen white thirty-foot antennas to the left of the quad, dishes pointing to the deep blue sky. The entire right side of the quad had been cordoned off with strikingly bright yellow tape, and bordered with hundreds of colorful flower arrangements. The crowd wearing mostly black was silently staring at the splashes of dead blood on the concrete. It was all quite beautiful. He figured this would make things easier, assuming he didn't get caught.

ahh!

2004-07-17T13:32:00.000-07:00

My friend George is leaving today for a two-week vacation that ends in the arresting city of New York. I dread but mostly look forward to the countless telling and retelling of stories proclaiming the Big Apples greatness. Spill some beer for the hommies my half Mexican brother....The Golden State Warriors and a six-year, $37-million contract await Mr. Derek Fisher, sounds like Kobe's contract. Oh! Except for One Hundred million or so....According to a New York Times poll, for the first time a majority of Americans think that having gone to war in Iraq was the wrong thing to do. Slowly but surely we are making progress.

ahh!

2004-07-16T22:13:00.000-07:00

The calluses shield us and keep us alive. Built over time they teach and help in our struggle to go forward up the mountain without surrender. The human spirit has always managed to surface for air, but this routine has grown tired. Everything develops immunity. How can it be this way for this long? How many times must someone be taught the same lessons before there is some change? This lifelong class should be condensed. Perhaps Life-Lesson for Dummies, and all that it implies, after all there always seems to be one person around who took this condensed class, and they make life appear effortless.

ahh!

2004-07-14T01:02:00.000-07:00

The 50th anniversary of a true Brownican's death. Frida Kahlo lived a sad and brilliantly painful existence for most of her 47 years, but she has and will continue to inspire little Brownican women. And I am sure she could drink eight continuous days without getting diarrhea....I wonder what they are going to do with the 30ft Shaq doll at Universal's City Walk?....Is my consuming disdain for Bush enough? Or should I start touting the John/John ticket?....My car has 100,000 miles, should I replace the shocks and struts? Or maybe it just needs a good wash....Wool socks are cool, not hot like you would think....When you don't have anything meaningful to say, ask questions.

ahh!

2004-07-12T14:10:00.000-07:00

Who's looking when you're not looking? I see them everyday, I want them everyday, so smooth so sweet smelling, why can't they lie down and call to me? But they are busy I am busy. Remember the way it was at the beginning? But we all grow soft with time. Occasionally I will grow hard and my pace quickens, but it doesn't feel the same....Someone has been ignoring their Brownican responsibilities. Surely it won't happen again....Am I the only right-handed person who picks their nose with their left hand?....George W. Bush still sucks elephant cock....Cisco announced a fast router. According to Cnet "Cisco claims that the router can reach a routing throughput of 92 terabits, or 92 trillion bits per second. With this kind of capacity, the entire printed collection of the U.S. Library of Congress could be downloaded in 4.6 seconds. The same feat using a dial-up modem would take around 82 years....I had diarrhea for two days because I got drunk eight days.

ahh!

2004-07-12T13:33:00.000-07:00

I constantly think about not thinking about it. It looms from behind their masks. It becomes visible for just a fleeting moment. You know, that moment of realization when they see right through you. That moment when they can see your truths, lies and motivation, an instant of awkwardness that nobody acknowledges but everyone is aware of. It is a spec of time during which a powerful boss man has the courage of a child. I am overwhelmed with my collection of uncomfortable moments. I say I'm in control, and then it happens again. They are constantly impeding people, showing them the line. Any further they say and we won't be held accountable for our actions. But I don't want to think about it.

ahh!

Deliverance

2004-07-10T12:06:00.000-07:00

Faces, contorted frozen faces with the look of dismay eternally fixed on their silhouettes. Ghostly auras melt away with repetitious beats of bones and taught dead skin being banged and pummeled in the blurry backdrop. Primal shrieks attenuate at their own tempo, indifferent to the mauling of flesh. A cage of bones, tight rotting skin hides their color but fails to disguise their smooth sweeps and jagged edges. Mounds and mounds of 50 lb bodies. Like the kind we have all seen right before they are drenched in gasoline and set ablaze. The stench! The kind of stench you can see. The kind of pungency that meanders at your side and a week later, still makes you gag. The bellowing agony on each of their faces pounds at your ears like a mother screaming for her dead child. Terrifying without end. Chagrining without mercy. Compelling you to wreak of guilt. It reminds you that you are merely human and shames you for being so.

2004-07-07T00:44:00.000-07:00

When there is no one to lay by your side, when there is no one to argue with, when there is no one to love, love yourself...One year from now when someone in the White House yells out "John!" Will they be calling the president or vice president? One year from now when an exhausted Al Queda decides to hand over Osama Bin Laden for peace, will we handover Bush? One year from now will I still be drunk?

ahh!

2004-07-05T21:00:00.000-07:00

This great nation of our's offers the best McCombo for LIVING on Earth, don't tell my comrades in the resistance I said that.... There is no need to drag that heavy anchor any longer. I have known you for so long. I know what makes you cry, be it from laughter, fear, anger or hurt. You are one person's shoulder and another's fighting fist. You are someone's proverbial rock. So trust me when I say "let it go". This is not an ocean your in. It's a river. Use and appreciate the strength you have been dealt. Forget the anchor and fight the currents, it's when you're at your best. Don't worry about me, I will hold on to this rock.

ahh!

2004-07-05T20:55:00.000-07:00

..
ahh!

Female mountain?

2004-07-02T16:55:00.000-07:00

Hey! I deserve some credit for making the 300C and Magnum cool. A year ago I began hyping the cars up to anyone who would listen and the response was tepid or worse. I just read in the N.Y. times, after having read similar articles in several magazines that Snoop Dogg and other Hip Hop celebrities want one of these cars, instantly giving the cars street cred. What the hell is that? Oh wait! Does that mean that I am ahead of Hip Hop cool? Of course it does...Yesterday some Brownicans and a gentile went to the Dodger game, and what a game it was. The best part was Barry Bonds letting a scoring ball tiptoe past him as the crowd chanted "Barry sucks" and a couple of drunk Brownicans yelling "steeeeroids." After the game we saw the fireworks display from the outfield lawn. I believe it is the first professional 4th of July show I have ever seen. That explains why I got so emotional during the patriotic songs and red white and blue fireworks. Or maybe it was the site of a friend of over a dozen years eating gobs of the well-manicured lawn, while exclaiming "it taste like parsley." And the night was not over. We went to a crapy chi-chi-bar where we were exposed to a pretty Asian girl vomiting all over her party's table, their drunk faces of disbelief were hilarious.

ahh!

2004-07-01T09:39:00.000-07:00

This just in from the Researchers at London's St Thomas Hospital, drinking eight alcoholic beverages a week can help women build stronger bones. Next time a 45-year-old neighbor catches your eye and you finally get the courage to ask her out only to be left engorged with consumption at the end of the night because she is self-conscious about her stretch marks just tell her to drink eight umbrella drinks, for her health. This has been Thursday's Health Report.

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2004-06-30T23:00:00.000-07:00

For the lonely people holding on, who feel like a single stranded leaf fluttering precariously by a thin line in the unyielding harsh elements. We are all born as the trees. With branches sprouting from our center, and roots down to what's been. Every leaf in the tree is an eye, your eyewitness to what is. You are not that leaf. You are the tree. The branches are those few who grow into or out of your center, some stronger than others, new branches always sprouting from earlier ones. Some ultimately dying off. You shouldn't focus solely on one branch or worse one leaf for to long, lest you lose perspective and eventually balance. Buried, the roots are what originally created and fed you. Those out of sight but still necessary roots are what made you who you are right now. But you are not the roots. You are the tree.

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one of Spidermans friends?

2004-06-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

On one hand I hate to do this, on the other I don't really care. This is yet another movie review. Spiderman 2 is as most of you have surely heard better than the first. The special effects are better although still not perfect, and Dock Ock steals the show like all good villains. Remember how in the Hulk they tried to insert a romantic story of longing and desire to strengthen the movie, but instead turned it into a three hour bored-a-crapathon? Well it actually works here, not that I'm into stories of longing and desire, well not usually, I swear. Oh, I forgot Tobey Maguire to everyone's surprise was there in person and introduced the film before it started. This was at the Cinerama Dome on Sunset blvd. The screen is massive, the sound system is great, when you purchase a ticket you are assigned a seat and they don't show commercials before the movie, the catch you ask? The eleven-dollar ticket price is steep for the average Brownican.

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2004-06-28T19:47:00.000-07:00

In some ways the Brownicans led caravan was not so successful, not many signed up and some who did didn't show up. Cest la vive. But for the ones who did go, man it was great, well sort of cool. Our rented decommissioned school bus' farting black clouds announced to everyone within earshot that the anti-Bush party was on. A long line outside the theatre was waiting for us, one hour before the sold out show at 5:10p.m. Luckily we already had tickets, too many tickets. Until Ca-caaa (as in cart), scalped our extra ticket for face value, good job Brownican. We pushed aside the socialist, communist, chest bleeding, do-gooders at the entrance who where passing out crude leftist propaganda and went inside to watch the professionally made propaganda. The documentary was great. Unbelievable that so much of the video presented here had not been shown before. Unbelievable that our president is even more incompetent and callous than most of us had previously thought. A cool office dude at work looked down from his managerial perch and asked me today if Fahrenheit 9/11 was at all balanced in its portrayal of President Bush. Hmmm, let me think for a moment..No it wasn't, but I think that Michael Moors' subjective narration helped keep the documentary flowing fast and funny. If Moors narration were to be removed it would still be as powerful a condemnation of Bush, but also boring. So GO watch the film, it's your responsibility as an American to be aware of what is going on. After the film the Brownicans walked a few blocks, laughed loudly, drank beers and ate good expensive capitalistic burgers..And don't think for a minute that this is the end of Brownican led caravans. Our next trip is taking us to Washington D.C., so who's down?

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2004-06-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

"Don't fuck it up now! It's been a great day. NO! Turn left you stupid drunk! Yes left."

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2004-06-25T12:14:00.000-07:00

Did you hear the news? Dick Cheney said, "Fuck" in the hallowed halls of the nations capitol. As if there wasn't already enough reason to get rid of the lying fuck. Speaking of our executive branch, Brownicans is giving final notice to anyone wishing to attend a showing of Fahrenheit 9/11. We are going on Saturday night or Sunday. C'mon! We didn't rent a decommissioned school bus for just two people....Do you feel like you are being split? Pulled until your spirit rips in two. Slowly confronted with every word from the past? Slowly gutted over and over? To be true or fake, does it really matter anymore? Are you tired of being yanked in every direction by your own weaknesses? The present isn't here yet, the gifts from the past are.

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Adulation

2004-06-23T23:40:00.000-07:00

Demented and falling apart
I besiege the mind and persecute the body
a mouthful of hair
nails in the skin
blood on my teeth
distorted and trembling, I strangle your last word
because I ignored your first
wrinkled and dismayed, you open your mouth
and bounce your way towards silence.

2004-06-22T15:32:00.000-07:00

They where dancing, challenged by the thunder of the frenetic drums to keep up. The huge southern sun stared down at them trying to stop them. There was something in their strong legs or their headdress feathers that allowed them to only think about the rhythm. The oldest one, a lady in her 50's shouted in tempo, stories of the past. This lady panted as some of the others pounded the hard, hot pavement with their bare feet, while the others red palms slammed against the dry hide of the drums. They where proud of the growing crowd, and the crowd was equally proud of the performers and of their own personnel past. The older lady rejoined the dancers at full speed. The crowds' silent energy intertwined with that of the dancers and drummers and ancestors. One guy walked away, trying to find shade along the way. He was embarrassed that he didn't know whether they where supposed to be Mayan or Aztecs or Olmecs or...

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2004-06-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

It's Friday and most newspapers are filled with movie reviews, so being a follower I decided to write one too, if it's good enough for the times it's good enough for Brownicans....Dodgeball is another tour-de-fornicated laughter from Vince Vaughn following his amazing performance in last years hilarious comedy, Starsky and Hutch where he played a former drug dealer turned businessman (I also haven't seen that one.) This pre-apocalyptic story involves a violent sport in which men heave their balls at other men with the intent to denigrate their opponents, very disturbing stuff. When was the last time you saw someone get knocked out because their ball slammed into another's helmeted head. And the whole shower scene is amazing, you will never forget to leave you're balls at home again. While we whole-heartedly recommend this sadistic comedy, we do have some reservations about the quality of the special effects in regards to the look of the balls. All in all go see this film that scored a DarkBrown (very good) on the Brownicans quality scale...but first I am going to re-check the racy goingon's in the June 14 room.

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2004-06-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

The poor man is walking straight up the center of the street, no, limping. Slightly dragging his left foot. His heavy cumbersome body is used to the struggle. This man in clothes he's worn a hundred times looks tired but committed. Cars, trucks, potholes and the heat are trying to intimidate him. The thought returns to his mind, to simply lie down amid this thunderous hell. Sometimes he will stop for a moment and mull over how comforting it would be to rest and close his eyes. But he never does. He analyzes the road ahead but the shimmering heat won't let him see past the hell zone. There are stories that this road eventually ends, but how could it? How would this long road look and feel without all these hellish obstacles? This man has his doubts. Besides where and when did it all start? He doesn't remember it being this way when he started his journey many memories ago. He contemplates a long rest, and that is when he's able to hear the people in the sidewalk. Through gaps in the blur of rushing traffic he can see people waving and yelling at him. He thinks he can hear them telling him to not give up. "It will end," they say. "You will be free," they assure him. But how can they possibly know? "Because we made it."

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2004-06-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

Let us see that tattoo on your belly. Yeah you, the skinny one with the hefty friend. False advertisement, not so cute. “Blah..blah..blah..” 5 minutes later Charlie Brown’s teacher is no longer speaking in tongues..... “Yeah, and they removed 1/4 of my brain. Want to see the scar?” Hell yeah, we wanna see! She pushes aside her thin blonde hair on the right side of her dented head and there, from her temple to the back of her ear, you could see where Geronimo exacted his revenge on this pale face. Auto wreck on the freeway, I can’t remember who’s fault it was but she paid the price. Crashed, submarined out of the seat belt, ejected from the car, which definitely was not a Volvo, and the next thing you know, she’s crying ‘cause they may not be able to save her ear. Namely, the right one which has been partially torn from her scalp. 3/4's of it daintily swings side to side as she fretfully shakes her head no. Her brain would soon be missing the remainder of that fraction but the proceeding vanity is nowhere near the affliction her ear has brought her. What is it? Out of hearing, out of mind? You know... I ask her, “So that means you’re clinically insane?” That was the end of that conversation. I guess her sense of humor happened to be within that 1/4.

2004-06-16T00:12:00.000-07:00

Where is this going?? Now that you've dug this far, why stop? The world will get brighter the deeper you go.....Brownicans would like to welcome it's newest readers even the ones that don't comment. Especially the sexual innuendo of 13 is my luck # and the obviously educated complements of schizophrenic Cureme/slash/Broken....It has come to our attention that not everyone is aware of FAHRENHEIT 9/11, the movie. So take it upon yourself to find out. You could visit the website which has the movies title. Then you will surely want to join the Brownicans led caravan on June 25, unless you are a Republican ahhh ha haa!...Ready for some negativity???? Yeah! I feel it. So bitch ass-slapping good, it makes me want to slap my own ass. Oh yeah baby! You can take it all and more. Who's yo daddy, you hungry slut? You know where to go when nature calls. Get on close and torture my balls. Get on closer and ask me to fuck your face until you choke on my poisoned waste..What? Oh, hell no! Those better be physical tears cause I ain't dealing with that other shit. I am made of gold plated plastic. And don't respond to no tears. So get quick and plug it, before I kill your crying, like a sledgehammer to a tick. Cause I ain't respond to that shit.

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2004-06-14T23:49:00.000-07:00

Demonic replicating nuns with all reaching talons, claw at my spine. I drag you by your elbow bolting up the spiral stairs as I glance back to see the habit wearing gargoyle split length wise into twice as many penance. One sadistically hovers towards me up the steps while the other glides onto the balcony above. Your weight triples and I can no longer tolerate how it begs for me to stay behind. I pull and tug on you but I must confess, escaping the ring of rosary beads would be much easier if I were to leave you where you lie. I can’t even see you anymore. Yet, I yank on your arm as if I were confiscating it for this weeks donation. Fear bites down on my throat so hard, it wakes me. I hit replay and can see the ghouls giving me chase, the polished wooden staircase, the balcony with splintering tree trunks for post, this time I even notice the exit, a set of double glass doors with mobs of people waiting on the other side, but I can’t remember who you were.

2004-06-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

The cowboy on the White Horse flew over the south lawn screaming. "Do something about it! Kill it! Buy it out! Run, run Fahrenheit 9/11 is coming." In the spirit of social upheaval and unrest Brownicans is planning a trip to visit the nearest cinema showcasing this award winning film. After the film we will take to the street and violently rape an effigy of President Bush with a six-foot long mock up of an oil well. Who's down? The film will be released on Friday June 25. Brownicans will lead the caravan of anti-fascist on that day, please respond as soon as possible.

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2004-06-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

She was trouble on her own. Being accompanied by this other vagina-wielding devil only made things worse. But I stood my ground. Shooting one testosterone formed, domineering phrase after another. My .38 caliber gun was heating up. But her steam powered locomotive ass continued, unperturbed by my ineffective ammunition. Her nonchalance and dismissive attitude came at me like the steam powered locomotive that it was. My ineffective gun in hand there was nothing I could do to stop it. It rolled over me. I woke up tired as the warm morning arrived, buried under a steam powered locomotive ass. Tired with no bullets left.

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2004-06-09T23:42:00.000-07:00

It has been confirmed, all fighters are desperately searching for a fight outside of themselves.
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2004-06-08T00:19:00.000-07:00

Running from the reflection, I crashed into this wall. It wasn't supposed to be here. For a long moment I've stood here thinking about what made me run. My chest is caved in and my soul is threatening to leave me. And all I can see is the one million hairline cracks that were never visible from afar. Pressed deep into me this cold and brainless wall mocks me. Dares me to leave. I plan my fight and visualize it. The monolith just laughs, causing me to painfully restrategize. I think I'm being fooled. I can smell my own stink from being immobile for so long. There is so much I have forgotten. The wall is winning this staring contest. It is a wall that was never supposed to be here. It can't end here. But I'm afraid to fail.

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The King Of Beers Vol. 1 & 2

2004-06-07T23:31:00.000-07:00

Over and over again she claimed Pico as her prison, “I’m a white girl from Pico!” I second guess myself and realize that the positive thoughts I had of this river going blonde were a little premature, now all I could think of is when she would get out of my chair or at least shut up. Wait a minute, she is friends with the cute bartender who flirts with the sultry exhibitionist who sits in the corner of the bar with her voyeur boyfriend who enjoys watching his almost bare chested girlfriend walk up to the bar, through the waitress station, push her body up against the tanned curly haired attention whore, lean in, tickle her ear with her Freudian idiom dripping lips and order the same 2 drinks, over and over again. I don’t know who was enjoying themselves more, the pourer of valor, wonder woman, the pimp, me or the Oakey from Pico with the English ancestors.

With a bar mop in her back pocket, a bottle opener in the other and a low carb Michelob Ultra in her hand she distributes distractions and collects her tuition. Admittedly she says that the designer beer taste like flavored water but she’s on a diet. I ask her jokingly, but it’s no joke, if she is trying to get down to fifty pounds. “To the lake next weekend....”, I presume she wants to look good in her bikini and now, like I did then, harbor the image of where the tan lines begin and where they fade to brown. The English girl from Pico with roots in Oklahoma claims to not only go to the lake with the key holder, but she baby sits her as well, maybe this Pico girl who likes to drink but doesn’t have any alcohol at home ‘cause she lives with two alcoholics, sssshhhh!!!! don’t tell her , but I think there are three alcoholics living in that house, isn’t too bad after all. Did I mention she drinks Pacifico? She must be OK. Mmmmm! The I’ll show you my tits if you let me nibble on your ear ritual is starting over again, over and over.

2004-06-06T23:24:00.000-07:00

I didn’t get to see her face, but I must say, she has the prettiest
dimples I have ever seen.... From the one who loved her, Vile
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2004-06-03T10:21:00.000-07:00

The boogeyman has changed his clothes for the millionth time. It took a moment to figure it out. I can feel his warm humid fumes in the back of my neck. I'm tired. At first he didn't weigh much, but now I would swear it's a ton. He's wrapped around my back, holding on tight. He makes no movement. If it weren't for his breathing I'd say he was dead. I was becoming complacent to his presence.
But lately he began whispering. At first I thought it was my own thoughts trying to come through. But now I can make out some of the words. Rumors. Bad rumors about those I love.

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Happy, Happy, Joy Joy.

2004-05-28T23:44:00.000-07:00

My dick has a man’s hunger
My heart has a woman’s love
My mind has a kids restlessness
My soul has the acidity of an adolescent
Yet I’m none.

2004-05-24T23:39:00.000-07:00

My back and legs have become strong enough to stand up......You'd think she was open for business with that pose. No one has ever made an old office chair look so comfortable. Her right arm curled around her left, and her left leg draped over the right one. The thin and haggard bright red top she wore struggled to keep her nipples covered. Although thin and beautifully tanned her skin looked tired, as if her muscle tone had given up trying to make a good impression. Why did I want to see her? She was talking, but she wouldn't look directly at me. Is this the way she had looked all along? I couldn't take her in like she apparently wanted. We talked and connected like old times. We are both still traveling the same backcountry trails of never never land. Then she picked up her purse that was disguised as a fully loaded weekend getaway sac. She practically stuck her head in there looking for something. Her dirty hands pulled out a worn notebook, some plastic jewelry and finally what she was looking for, a one-liter half empty bottle of Presidente.

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2004-05-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

These are my cousins from Las Vegas. Their father my mom's brother died on Sunday of cancer at age 41. So hug your kids and whoever is around you right now and tell them you love them....On a different note, the deafening roar (whimper) of support for Brownicans has revitalized the staff here, and as a result we will double our efforts to meticulously mull over topics before posting them (more than 5minuts), provide massive doses of wit and irony (occasionally), and most importantly keep Brownicans relevant to our sophisticated audience (not guaranteed.)

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2004-05-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

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2004-05-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

This is now officially embarrassing, but I will persevere. After all I survived that one bloody incident in the seventh-grade when I tripped on my way up to the chalkboard crashing into the teachers desk and scraping off the tip of my nose. Lets continue with this moment of heart-warming revelation to ask for help with my urinating problem�Oh! gotta go, and I haven�t said anything. We are driving to Vegas again. I will take the next couple of days to contemplate the place of Brownicans on the American landscape.

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2004-05-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

A cold bottle of beer on a hot day, what a great moment. Ok! if nobody writes anything soon I will be forced to resort to partial nudity and foul language. And if that doesn't work you know what will be next. Oh! and for those of you who said that Dawn of the Dead was a dumb movie I think you are (fart sound).
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2004-05-20T00:02:00.000-07:00

Ok lets start by having a good laugh at Christinas expense with this oldie but goodie. Click on the photo to get a closer look at drunken love. Other than clicking on the comments link underneath and writing for everyone to see, let me know if you want access to post stuff directly.
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Created by popular demand...

2004-05-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

Mostly just Roberts, and this isn't even what he had in mind. Actually I haven't worked since the car accident and I'm bored. Let's see if it last more than a month.