I’m a fixin’ to join the pro bowling tour. I think music is stupid and it all sounds like noise to me. I reallly feel like I have style and grace when I bowl. This Thanksgiving I am really going to work on my game. Did you ever stop to think about all the cool towns that have bowling alleys? I really hope that Hellven has a league and a fine selection of bowling shoes. I feel bad that Michael the spacedog can’t bowl. Will someone please invent a ball to fit a whole paw in it? I can just just see him limping down the lane on 3 legs with a heavy ball on his southpaw. Michael is left handed just like Jimi and Kurt were.
I am playing a show in L.A. on Wednesday night at Largo. I play for exactly 54 minutes At about 8 ish. (more ish than 8) and then my friend David Garza plays. This is the night before Thanksgiving. Then on Saturday night I am in the temporary headquarters of Hellven in San Diego for a show at the Casbah. Stinky will be hitting 2 pieces of wood on his cocktail kit while I cavort with panache and aplomb and sing songs about bowling and dogs and election officials in Ohio. Please bring me a bowling ball or a book with some tips on cool bowling hairstyles. Remember the movie Kingpin? Those haircuts rocked more than Styx at the Palm Springs High School Gym back in ’77.
Happy Easter. I hope the bunny brings you lots of Halloween chocolate turkeyettes on toothpicks made with a hint of nutmeg by a factory union organizers from the bowling pin local #23.
Yours in Mother Mary grilled cheeseness,
Last night a spaceship carrying a dog landed on my porch and nobody saw it save for me. The light was so bright it almost blinded me and there was a thin man glowing like neon, doing backflips on a tiny railing. Michael the spacedog was being honored by several monks in purple robes. They said they were from Hellven, a little known place in the nether regions of quadrant 42, near sector 7.
Hellven is a little bit Heaven and a little bit of Hell. The drinking fountains serve cool crisp water with a touch of honey and lemon or if you flip a switch they serve flavorful home brewed beer. Some people say it is an ideal world in which people treat each other with compassion, and their minds become uncorked and sprinklers shoot out of their ears, and shower the thirsty masses with crazy, horny love juices. Love blooms through every crack in the sidewalk and the planet is one big goofy sing along talent show where everybody wins.
The government doesn’t want you to know about Hellven because they are worried that people will stop believing in them. They are afraid of people questioning their authority. I know this for a fact because last night the men in the purple robes with the assistance of Michael the spacedog gave me a slideshow that opened my mind like a can of Dinty Moore beef chlie. I thought there was a trickle of blood coming out of my ear after they left but it was just some leftover samples of their sprinkler ears. I now have a little of their knowledge and have decided to walk across America this week to spread the word. Please send me money to this website via paypal. I promise not to eat that crappy food they serve at Perkins while on my journey.
God rest ye merry gentlemen,
God is dog spelled backwards,
I am Michael the space dog. I am the descendant of an ape from Ghana and I didn’t write that horseshit below. I am an educated dog with a degree in Spanish and astrophysics. Sure, I lived in a space ship and survived on Alpo and watched reruns of Bonanza, but I haven’t barked in years. In fact I consider barking to be a rude pastime practiced by druid dogs from Mars. I enjoy making shrimp scampi and even went to Japanese cooking school and make a mean hamachi roll. Even though I don’t have thumbs most of my rolls come out perfect. My father was Berber tribesman form Fez and immigrated to to Spain on a 3 week doggy visa. He got a job in a tapas bar and soon debunked the myth of opposable thumbs being necessary for work visas. The Spanish government soon gave him a grant and he began his quest to make me an outer space dog.
After my first communion I entered college. I was laughed at by the other students but soon acquired a 4.0 grade point average. This shut those bastards’ pie holes, and before I knew it I was up up in space sending messages to the wailing hyenas below. I was accused of government espionage and stripped of my title as space dog and now I just walk the mean streets looking for internet cafes to surf the net for doggy style porn. I’ll write you guys again soon but in the mean time I would like to let you know that there are some good recipes for Thanksgiving side dishes on the internet.
Oh yeah, Steve says hi.
Michael the space dog
I am the real Steve. The guy that wrote that stuff yesterday only exists in my mind. He isn’t real, o.k.? I live in a space ship near Pluto. I hate it when that other psycho Steve writes about the devil and stuff like that. My spaceship is patrolling right now overhead. I see you guys and what you’re doing and I’m telling Santa Claus about it. I love living in my rocket ship. It is just me and my dog Michael. I taught him how to steer so I am able to take cat naps. The only problem is that when I take a cat nap my dog thinks I am actually a cat and he growls at me the whole time. Needless to say, I am exhausted. Perhaps I can learn how to take dog naps or something. Plus, I am allergic to cats so whenever I take a cat nap I have take a benedryl or allegra. These pills make me sleepy and now I am hoing to rest and let Michael the type the rest of this message.
RUF Ruff bow wowow wow grrrrrrrrr ruff
mmmm rrrrrrruffff grrrr bowwww woooooowww
I woke up in the hills of Stanley Virginia this morning and got to see one of the most bestest wonderfulest sunrises ever. There ain’t nothin’ like the darn hills of old Virginny to make a man feel crazy hazy and never lazy. I felt Satan snapping at my heels and I yelled for him to shove his devil music up his arse. He wanted me to write some baaad music and I said to him “I reject thee Satan!” He grew a tail of spikes out of his head and his ears became antennaes and the songs of Beelzebub was a pourin’ out of his Marshall stack of a mouth. I threw a rock at his balls and he yelped like a jackal with a scream that almost burst my eardrums. His tongue was 666 snakes and he chased me up a hill and I stabbed him in the eye with a stainless steel tuning fork. He fell down the hill and told me he’d be back in a few weeks.
I’m moving to Sweden.
Steven joshua joshua joshua judges ruth Poltz
Everyone chant after me: 4 more beers! 4 more beers! Do this until your vision blurs and you are happy.
My guy lost the election and that’s the way it is. Am I sad? Hell yeah Dre I’m pissed off and sad. I think the better guy lost and now we are saddled with the inmates running the asylum. It seemed like the population was ready for a change, but I guess not yet. And now like the myth of Sysyphus we must push the rock back up the hill. I think we should push it up with a smile on our faces like we are giving the finger to the folks that put us there.
There is a new day dawning my brothers and sisters and cousins and half cousins and step fathers and aunts of the revolution. We shall start a revolution and walk all the way to our local pubs chanting 4 more beers!
I would like to leave you with a poem by E.E. Cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of allnothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Steven JJ (pictured above with Lou Demarco) Poltz