Tuesday, May 29, 2007

COKE IS IT! (or Listen to Zappa's "Peaches en Regalia" Right Now)

I'm not supposed to say anything, but since you're all my friends I know you can keep a secret. I got a job as an "Experimental Flavor Developer" with the Coca-Cola co. I've actually been doing freelance work for them for a few months, I've done well so they've brought me "in house". I'm pretty excited. Having influence over the taste of the most consumed product on the planet is incredible. I just got a bit of a chill writing that. Coke is a pop culture icon, you know?

It's a weird kind of gig because it's part conceptual and artistic and part science. I have to come up with an idea then work with a team of "flavor synthesisers" to make it a reality. It's like making function follow form, if you know what I mean. I haven't been, nor will I be told how many others are Flavor Developers and we all work independently. I have been told however to not expect to have any of my concepts reach production. That said I really don't know how a determination is made as to my employment status. If nothing you do ever makes money, how does that reflect on an annual performance review?

Anyway, I'm thrilled to get the gig so I'm not really thinking about any future with "The Company". "It's really an honor just to be nominated."

I was told to relax, be myself and just let the ideas flow from within. So, now to the sneak peak . . . My thoughts first brought me to baseball and gave me the idea to add the smell of fresh cut grass to the drink. To really drive home(pun intended) the "at the ball park" experience I want the opening of the bottle to sound like the crack of the bat, then the fizzing of the drink as it's poured to simulate the roar of the crowd. I've been told this is physicaly imposible but they gave me 4 guys and 2 months to work on it anyway. I've already filed for a 1 month extension on the project.

No matter how big a company gets there's always room for expansion. Coke's already conquered the human species so now it's time to reach out. Hence, low carbonation beef and liver flavored Coke for dogs. I tried out the prototype on Angus and he went nuts for it. Cola nuts!

You may not have seen the new "vitamin coke" or whatever they're calling it, but that wasn't my idea. I got a fat raise however for suggesting we donate boatloads of it to starving nations. Once they're up and on they're feet again they'll be our best customers. Unlike the cigarette companies, we want to keep our customers alive.

I've heard the phrases, "red bull and vodka" and "Jagerbombs" belched out in a moist cloud from 20 somethings lately it struck me that the old standby "Jack and Coke" was getting passed by. "intoxiCOKE!" hit me from out of the sky like a lightning bolt from the hand of Zeus. Alcohol infused Coca-Cola! Think about it!

I've also had more than a few mundane flavor concepts. "Coca-Cola Cabbage", "Carrot Cake Coke", if this gets past "concept stage" I'd like to see Carol Burnett be the spokes woman. "Super Cold Coke". I've no idea how this one'll taste, but what a name huh?

Did I mention I get all the Coke I can drink for free! That alone makes the job worth doing. I have a few other flavors I'm working on. I'll keep you posted. I think I've knocked it out of the park with 3 men on base with this one though. Ready for this?!? . . . MONEY SCENTED COKE! Need I say more?

Take THAT Andy Warhol!

Monday, May 28, 2007

If we trust in God so much then why isn't Jesus' face on the $1 bill?

I guess it would be hard for some of us to tuck a bill sporting the image from the Shroud of Turin into the g-string of a stripper, but wtf right? Fuckin'-A-Right Batman! Maybe capitalism and Christianity don't mix all that well after all, cast the money changers out of the temple and all of that, right? By the way, I think that's in large part why the dollar coin is always a failure. One can't hold many coins in a g-string.

Non Sequitur: Brian Wilson is one of the few living geniuses. Armando Morales is another.

Michael Vick (or "Sick. Die slow in It's Belly")

Disgusting, vulgar, inhumane, barbaric, sickening, unholy, repulsive, nauseating, repugnant, unforgivable, perverse, unbearably violent, cowardly, terrifying, is how I described it. I ran out of adjectives. Sick, you sick, sick fuck.

"Cruel, degrading and illegal" is the way the NFL pathetically described dogfighting yesterday when confronted with Michael Vick's, QB for the ATL Falcons, house being raided. Inside the house they found a "dog pit", 2 feet deep and 10 feet across, stained with blood. They also seized 65 pit bulls most malnourished and neglected, many scarred and abused. All showed signs of being involved in dogfighting. Writing this I obviously want the following on the record. Save for a complete confession, repentance, and a life dedicated to the assistance to animals, I hope Vick is expelled from the NFL and dies penniless. I'm not so perverse as to wish him to suffer like he makes dogs, but I almost wish I was.

I have a little bulldog named Angus. Miki and I went to the breeder and walked up his driveway. I looked over the fence and saw my little boy looking up at me. I smiled, gave him a wink and knew I found my new friend. We run, play ball, wrestle, snuggle, he saved our marriage, we sleep together, drive all over town together, we've been kicked out of just about everywhere because they don't allow dogs, I held him through the entire 2004 SOX post season-I still call him thegoodluckredSOXbulldog, our favorite band is Sabbath, there's a dimple between his eyes in which my nose fits perfectly when I kiss him, when I broke my shoulder blade and was in a lot of pain he woke me up every morning with gentle kisses, he tolerates the jerks we meet and gives incredible love to everyone, he has 11 different expressions for each of his emotions and I've never seen true anger in him, he's stood in front of MIki when he sensed danger and knocked me over once just because he felt like it. If someone or something hurt Angus in the way "pitfighting dogs" are hurt I'd . . .

Fuck your "I'm a badass-I'm a big athlete"
Fuck your "I gotta big dick-watch my poor dogs fight."
Fuck you and your evil perverted means of hiding your inadequacies.
Fuck you and your "My dog is gun"
Fuck you and your spin doctor agent and your,"It wasn't me."
Fuck your testosterone and your sick feeble mind.
Fuck your fear and cowardice and the pain you leave behind.

I know it's wrong but I hope you die sick, die slow in it's belly.

I'd rather you die helping, willful or not. Die helping, don't leave your sickness lying around. Don't leave your evil shit on our floor.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

USA (or the united states of atlantis)

"Learn to swim. See you down at Arizona Bay." bill hicks

Baby fists, baby finger nails. They weak they sharp. Sharp skin slicing weak fist holding. Now I have fever late at night and my hands feel like baby fists, grabing dark in the night. Baby fists, weak but narcotic, dark in the night. Fists punch they punch wildly and weak through the air. Fear though they know nothing to fear.

Page through read to page they learn to love though they no learn who to love why. Read me love why then I learn to love who. Will I give it? Give it madly? Can I give it any other way?

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

monkeys talk, no never lie on ground

I don't drink wine. When I do I don't think about it, let alone critique it. A man walks up to me in the liquor store today and asks me to describe the taste of a particular wine. I say,"I don't drink wine and furthermore i don't get involved in the affairs of others. He persisted. "Come on, you must know something about this one. It's very popular" "OK, I tried it a couple of times. It had a strong flavor of burnt coffee and human hair, with hints of onion and garlic, and a subtle yet satisfying hint of monkey pus and refried beans." I was fired 10 minutes later.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Cherry on an Anthill (or, We All Shine On. Right?)

Ever get the feeling you missed something? Will this all make sense? Will we have regrets? Of course we will. Is a fire like a star on the ground? I promise I won't write about the weather or the stars unless they're lying on the ground.

Will not to choose, will not to make. This not like them, we'll make no excuse, no more like them, no more less release. When the words they find their weight again then they start falling then more down. We don't swim under boat, no not now and the fire's not a star on the ground and if the colors start to drown and brown it fills your island, we'll not swim under the boat.

I've done bad things, maybe worse than you. soon the sun it touch the skin. I mean the light it wrap the skin in light. Sun throwing light, light throwing old light then older light throws light. Round light waves throw light round glass. With the water when it falls through lihgt and drags down light, light it doesn't care, it just makes light.

The new glass scourge lend truth to the glass threat now new threat, no new glass scourge. Walk now sinner, walk now through the glass. Touch glass, now no fear glass. Fear glass now that refract light. Wrapped like skin of porceline she lay broken. If not for flood of unborn water light. Her hair upon the skin with fickle coiled intention. We look like never under water. Like no never swim under boat.

Can you grip your memory in your hand? Can you taste your future in your mouth? Can your mouth hold time and will it hurt? Of my life I've grown much fonder. Swallowed my future so's not to taste it. What else can I've done? Stick my tounge out for sun's light spoon?

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Forever Never (or, Give it up to me)

You will not be afraid. You will be my savior anyway. So I looked it up. I looked a lot up. Time of day? I'll give you all some place to go. So I walk into my Grandmother's house and discover 11 different time zones.