Michael Kindt's Blog, page 80
December 29, 2015
Sad.
The only band to truly bridge punk and metal. As kids, we weren’t ashamed to wear a MOTORHEAD patch on our vest. Now, Metallica? Fuck that, Who needs that dramatic rock opera shit?
We fucking worked for a living.
Ode to Lemmy Kilmister | Michael Kindt
Lemmy died!
Lemmy was the singer and bassist for Motörhead,
a band so badass that if they moved in next door to you, your lawn
would immediately die. When my son texted with the news, I was
devastated and I buried my face in a pillow and cried like a little
bitch.
I LOVE Lemmy. I love the very idea of him, the very concept
of him. I have Lemmy bed sheets, Lemmy dishtowels, Lemmy toilet paper. I
have posters of Lemmy, but rolled up and in a closet because I’m not a
14 year old girl anymore. I do, however, have a specially-made Lemmy sex
doll that I pork every night wearing specially-made Lemmy condoms.
Michael Kindt lives in the Black Hills of South Dakota. He has determined to die there. Soon, probably.
…My Ode to Lemmy that I wrote on the fly after my son Hadrian texted with the news of his death and ruined what was almost a pleasant night…
December 27, 2015
“There’s a fear of getting old, among the young,...
“There’s a fear of getting old, among the young, that’s worse than the fear of death; it’s amazing. And I want them to know that old age can be wonderful. It’s the best time of my life, by far.” –Dick Van Dyke, 90, whose show I’m currently binging on.
Smiles all around…
.
December 26, 2015
Gee, I don’t know. One where pornography is mainstream and free...
Gee, I don’t know. One where pornography is mainstream and free and universal and pumped directly into our homes like the water from our faucets?
Goin’ out on a limb here, haha…
December 25, 2015
Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope all is well with you and yours, and that, especially, you are happy. Me, I'm off to pressure wash a warehouse with boiling hot water at double the money.
On Christmas, I can almost make a fair wage. Now, I personally, won’t be doing a lot of work. I will fall back on my usual tactics. If something heavy needs lifted I will suddenly have to go to the bathroom. If some massive pallet of bullshit needs shoved over to that corner, well lookie here, my boot needs tying.
I do all this and I ain’t even union.
Once I get off work, I’m going home to my sugar mama and have her rub my feet. I will mix my own bloody mary, though, cuz she always screws it up no matter how many lessons I give her.
Then we’ll open presents. I got her $500 in gift cards to Victoria’s Secret and Frederick’s of Hollywood.
I’m heading toward my 50s and life is good. Bring it, 2016!
I still got me some gravel in my gut and spit in my eye, fuckin A.
December 23, 2015
I used to work as an EMT in North Dakota.
This was before the oil boom and the place was truly a barren, empty wasteland (the North Dakota state song is “We Gotta Get Outta This Place” by the Animals). Today it is still a barren, empty wasteland, it just has oil wells all over it.
One winter night we got a call about an injured motorist along the highway and we headed out in the ambulance. Must’ve been around 1 AM. We had no info about the motorist, how bad he was hurt, nothing. The call had come in from a passer-by who needed to continue on.
When we got to the mile marker the caller had indicated, there was no wreck, no car, no people at all. We even spotlighted around, too. A suitcase was sitting in the middle of the highway, however, and after we made sure no one was around, I pulled it off the asphalt and onto the shoulder. It was unusually heavy and I struggled to carry it, even though me strong like bull.
The suitcase contained a single block of ice that was almost as large as the suitcase itself. Embedded in the ice were all these bloody, severed toes. Like, 20 of them. Some were big, some were small, some were painted, some were hairy. It was horrifying, and as I stared into the suitcase with my flashlight, I was suddenly aware of the darkness all around me.
“Holy fuck,” my partner, Shane, said. “What should we do?”
I shrugged. “I guess we better call a toe truck.”
VIDEO: Women defy media narrative, love Trump at packed Michigan rally
“The mainstream media tells us we’re not supposed to like Donald Trump.”
Haha. The mainstream media is telling everyone that. PLEADING with them at this point. Establishment Republicans, who are just Democrats with smaller testicles, are on the verge of actually doing “soul searching”–which would be robotic and fruitless, seeing as how Establishment Republicans have no souls.
I’m voting for Trump because he is the most interesting thing to happen to American politics in decades. Hell, I may even pretend like I’m a welfare Democrat, unable to scrounge together the couple bucks needed to get an ID, and vote for him twice.
Maybe even 3 times, what the fuck. I mean, it’s not like I’m doing something important, like buying beer.
