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When the dead rise, it's time for coffee.

Browsing Posts published by stonehombre

Here’s my latest “Chronicles of Chad” piece for the Tribune.

http://www.theclaytontribune.com/articles/2008/05/08/opinion/opinion03.txt

Can’t believe my publisher ran this creative non-fiction piece. Here ’tis.

Hope all is well w/ my peeps in da ATL

http://www.theclaytontribune.com/articles/2008/04/24/opinion/opinion03.txt

Sup zombies. It’s been a while since I last made a post. Per Striker Murdoch’s request I’ll begin pasting links to some of my newspaper articles. Let me know if you want me to continue to do so. Hopefully, as time goes by I’ll have some more time to commune with the dead.

 http://www.theclaytontribune.com/articles/2008/04/03/news/news03.txt

This is part of an article I have written that has been published in Impeached Magazine.  Click on the link to the website to read the rest. 

It may seem unthinkable, but the recent success of the surge in Iraq could spell doom for the Republican presidential hopefuls in 2008.  The current stumbling of the Giuliani campaign stands as a glaring example, and his fellow candidates would be well advised to take notice if they plan on escaping a similar fate. 

It was only months ago when many Republicans were wondering who Giuliani’s running mate would be after he sowed up the Republican nomination. Some of my friends on the right were talking about his chances against a Democratic opponent like it was a foregone conclusion.  Talk radio and cable news were buzzing like a high school cafeteria during prom week.  Giuliani was the big man on campus and everyone wanted to know who he was taking to the dance.  Rumors and innuendos were flying like spitballs in 7thperiod study hall. “I heard he’s gonna ask John McCain”, whispered one commentator.  “No way, he’s totally taking Mitt Romney!” another snapped.  “Shut up. Everyone knows he likes that Huckabee guy, and plus, they look cute together.”   

  http://www.impeachedmagazine.com/national/national/GOPnightmare.html

It’s Saturday afternoon in mid December. Grey clouds are rolling over my home town of Tucker, Georgia and unfortunately, my mood mirrors their steady descent.  Normally, such circumstances could be remedied with a hefty dose of high-speed gridiron brutality, but not today.  The college football season is ostensibly over and won’t return in any meaningful fashion until after Christmas, and only then for hollow and contrived reasons before retreating into hibernation until the dying days of Summer, 2008. 

 In its absence, I’m forced to settle for the NFL, which is a sad specter for any self-respecting football fan living in the bruised and battered hometown of the Atlanta Falcons.  For the remaining faithful who still swear allegiance to the team, these are days of delusion and desolation.   The franchise that just three years ago was one win away from the Super Bowl now lies in broken pieces, scattered and smoldering in the back-alleys of Peachtree Street.  The once dazzling athletic abilities of Michael Vick are now rotting away somewhere deep within the dank walls of a Federal Penitentiary and that lying thieving serpent of a coach, Bobby Petrino, was last seen slithering westward towards the Ozarks to wallow with the hogs. “Things are breakin’ up out there, high water everywhere.”  Bob Dylan said that, and I can’t disagree.

These circumstances, in and of themselves, are capable of souring the mood of any southern gentleman, and I am no exception.  In addition, the immediate future of the sporting world promises even darker days.  Those overpaid slackers of the NBA and the Tiny Testicle Society, also known as Major League Baseball, will soon be the primary inhabitants of the American sports landscape. May God have mercy on our souls.   Thankfully, I have found a new vice to fill the void once occupied by the high-octane violence of Division I football.   I have become a police blotter aficionado.  Due to my ongoing futile attempts at landing a police and courts reporting job, I decided it was in my best interest to familiarize myself with the medium.  However, what started off as a sort of scholastic curiosity has rapidly spiraled into a painfully addictive habit.  God only knows how many hours I have sat before the radio, entranced by the ghostly squelches and spastic mutterings of cops and dispatchers.  

I had always known intuitively that petty crime and violence were loitering in the shadows of my hometown, but I never could have imagined their unrelenting consistency and abundance.   As soon as I tuned into the feed emanating from the Dekalb County P.D., enumerable reports of armed robbery, stabbings and horrific automobile accidents were streaming across the wire.  The action was so fast and furious, that I struggled to keep up. I felt like one of those Olson twins in a hot dog eating contest. It was downright ugly.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that I had to share this stuff with as many people as possible.  After all, it is the season of giving.    Here’s a glimpse of what’s to come: a mother running through the streets of Clarkston with her knife-wielding son in hot pursuit, a 28 year old male with multiple self-inflicted knife wounds to the chest, and a Mexican cross-dresser selling his body like a cheap piece of candy on Cheshire Bridge Rd. 

Christmas and New Year’s are rapidly approaching, along with a full moon, which will occur on December, 23rd, so it promises to get wild out there……….I’ll keep you posted.

Your Humble Correspondent,

 Stonehombre

  

By Stonehombre

                Last Thursday night, instead of spending quality time snorkeling in the bath tub, I decided to give this little VH1 “celebreality” thing a chance.  They were showing one of those wacky game shows where a bunch of nasty-ass ho’s duke it out in a battle royal for the affection of a washed-up pseudo-pimp rapper.  You know, the one with the viking helmet.  I was just beginning to settle into the episode, when my brief moment of “double-wide” bliss was t-boned by a sickening incident.  As the episode was nearing its conclusion, all of the sad “sistas” stood waiting, like cattle before the slaughter, for their beau to arrive. Suddenly, something caught my eye.  Towards the back of the pack I noticed that one overweight hoochie mama was beginning to gently sway from side to side.  “My God!” I thought, “she’s gonna pass out!”  Just when I was convinced she was a goner, she slowly began to steady herself.  “Whew, everything’s ok,” I assured myself… think again chump!  After being lulled into a false sense of security, I saw one of her fellow skanks’ face begin to sour.  Heads turned and murmurs grew louder.  Suddenly one of the contestants astutely proclaimed, “That bitch just took a shit!”  That’s right; the poor chubby contestant had just laid down a steaming pile of dung, like an elephant with stage fright, in front of millions of viewers on national television.  I fell into a fit of laughter so intense that I pissed, burped and farted, all at the same time.  “Celebreality” had just won over another life-long fan. 

Now It was time to throw this party into overdrive, so I did what any young blooded American would do.   Yep, you guessed it, I tuned into C-SPAN.  Fat people have Twinkies, Senator Craig has bathroom stalls and I have C-SPAN, ‘nuf said.  I arrived at channel 30 just in time to find that I had traded one elephant and a pile of dung in for nine!  Of course, I’m speaking of the 2008 Republican Presidential candidates.  They were replaying CNN’s youtube debate from the day before, so I strapped on my bicycle helmet and prepared for the worst.  Guliani was rambling like a crazed billy-goat with a speech impediment.  Mitt Romney was nervously wiping away the jet black shoe polish that was slowly oozing from his suspiciously well defined hairline and Fred Thompson was squeezin’ in a cat-nap.  Yep, just another day in American politics. 

Watching these yahoos yuk it up began to trigger images of zombies in my mind, but not just any zombies, zombies with the gift of gab….. talking zombies.  Why the hell was I thinking of talking zombies?  Oh shit!! That’s it, ZombieChatter.com!  It had been several days since my friend “admin” had given my punk-ass author status.  I figured it was high time for me to write something.  So, with presidential politics on the brain, my thoughts turned to a book that I’m currently reading.  It’s about Abe Lincoln, and when I came across a little juicy tidbit, I knew I had to share it with you zombie bastards.   In the book, dealing with Lincoln’s struggles with depression, the author thought it relevant to publish the President’s charge account at Dillard’s Drugstore.  It listed every medication he had ever purchased.  I think some of you will find it interesting, if not shocking. The entire list is far too long for the purpose of this piece, so I decided just to whip out the all-stars on the roster.  I am not making this stuff up.  They are as follows: Chloroform, nitrous oxide, caffeine, cannabis, cocaine, morphine and opium.  

So this left me with two thoughts.  1) Abraham Lincoln governed this country ripped to the tits.  OR 2) George Carlin hopped back in one of those phone booths from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, picked up that douche-bag  from the movie, dressed like our 16th President, and made a b-line back to Dillard’s for a fix.

 Mucha Suerte

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