The US Department of State in Washington, D.C. is reading my blog. Why, hello there!!!
In case you don't already know some random facts about The Offbeat Drummer, I offer the government the following publicly:
My late father can't really be considered a military veteran, though he was honorably discharged from the US Navy after enlisting without having graduated high school. Over homesickness. Or excessive drunkenness, though if that was the issue, wow, thanks for the "honorable" discharge. We think. He never made it past the Great Lakes training base, that much is certain. My favorite Dad memory? Watching "The Gong Show" together and laughing our sassy pants off. I think it'd be more effective for us, as a country, to run elections the way they ran "The Gong Show." Oh wait! Chuck Barris was (or was he?) a CIA secret assassin. Does that disqualify him as the emcee? 'Cause he was fucking hilarious. Rip Taylor is still alive and kicking. He can be one of the judges. (Not to be confused with Rip Torn, who's a hopeless drunk.)
I live in a state where two of our last 3 elected governors are in federal prisons for corruption. No wonder you're scrambling to investigate the residents of IL who have big mouths and public blogs. By the way, could you post a prison photo of Rod Blago? I'm dying to see what jail's done to his hair.
I voted for Barack Obama, rallied for his win in Chicago in 2008 in Grant Park on a warm November night, but plan to write in 2 members of The Flaming Lips for President and VP in 2012, who would make sure everyone in the country loved everyone else, marijuana would be legalized (though I don't use it or any other illicit street drugs) and "Race For The Prize" would become the new National Anthem. Though the Coyne/Drozd ticket does seem a little green and tree-hugging for my personal tastes. But have you seen these guys? They are, by far, the hottest possibilities, so....
I became a registered Democrat in 1992, purely because the Clinton/Gore ticket was the hotter pick of the candidates and I was a randy 20-year old. Speaking of randy 20-year olds, it is my personal opinion that this fine country saw nary a more prosperous, stable, peaceful time than when President Clinton was being blown by his intern. Happy President = Happy USA. That Kerry guy never had a chance in Hell, for he was not being secretly supported by a worldwide cocaine cartel like George W. Bush was, who had the intelligence of a mushroom, the respect of a bleeding hangnail and the stench of a full ashtray. (I have more piercings than W. has IQ points.) Maybe if that motherfucker never stopped snorting snow, pardon the pun, the country wouldn't have nose-dived into becoming a worldwide joke butt embarrassment.
I am, for all intents and purposes, single, appreciate Medicaid, am unemployed because I had chronic, uncontrollable diarrhea, was pro-life for MYSELF but pro-choice for every other woman on Earth, though now it's moot since I am uterusless. I'm age 40, live with my mother again, am a mother myself, and declare myself to be a pacifist, peace-loving, generally apathetic anarchist (essentially, a walking contradiction, but does it look like I fucking care?) who is a Practicing Christian-Hindu-With-Buddhist-Tendencies-Who-Happens-to-Attend-a-Lutheran-Church-Christian, saved by Christ but hanging a 7-headed holy Hindu horse lithograph in my room, because I still love George Harrison more than I love most other dead people.
I'm studying to be a counseling psychologist, so I can help people whose mental problems are even more severe than mine, which, believe it or not, are under control, my anxiety-over-anxiety-meds yesterday notwithstanding. I smoke cigarettes, though have been known to cross county lines into a cheaper county to buy them, where I am routinely carded nowadays because they don't believe I am of age. I don't drink alcohol or do drugs, anymore, though I partake of communion wine. When I took the following picture in my church's sacristy, calling to attention what they did with Jesus' blood after services and posted it to Facebook....
I'm in love. One of my closest friends told me, "You're a little bit in love with just about everyone," and that's a fairly correct statement. Except, of course, for my ex-mother-in-law, whom I cannot stand.
See, these two icons have my back! You couldn't deport them!
I'd rather have MY face chewed off, naked by the roadside in Florida, than see the upcoming adaptation of "Anna Karenina" with Keira Knightly as the lead. (Don't people fucking READ books anymore?)
I couldn't help but notice you out-clicked on the "sassy pants" picture. Congratulations, U.S. Government. You're now among hundreds of others who think the term "sassy pants" is comical. In Googling myself + "sassy pants," wow, was I ahead of the curve. I coined "sassypants" (as one word) in reference to my son when he was 8, when he was popularizing our own Miklaszism, "The Sausage Has Spoken," which is what my Polish grandfather and dad used to say whenever somebody in the house said something completely and utterly stupid.
By the way, I would've hoped, with your access to technology, that you'd be using computers that didn't still operate on Windows XP. My son claims most businesses are still using XP, and he'd know better than I would. The way this country is run, it's like you're balancing the budget using an abacus.
I have 3,000 songs in my iTunes library, and know the words to every one by heart, unless it's an instrumental. I have a drum kit that's worth more than some houses in Humboldt Park, but I keep it hidden out-of-town in a secret, off-site location.
My 12-year old son has a hand-held device that uses LED signals that can turn off virtually any television, as well as an Annoy-a-Tron, which is a device more technologically advanced than your capability of hiding your presence on my web site. We like to shop on www.thinkgeek.com. My son was perusing his giant picture book on weapons (that we got at Borders on clearance before they went belly-up) and decided that "Ambidextrous Gun" would be a great name for a punk band. While we're re-vamping the country, could you do me a favor and make everything a little more southpaw-friendly? Why isn't anyone occupying for the rights of the left-handed? How do ya'll sleep at night knowing I can't handle salad tongs? THE WHOLE WORLD IS BACKWARDS. FUCK.
Was it the State Department that did this to our lawn last summer?
What does this all mean? If you want to torture dissidents, sit them down in a room, forced to listen to Mandy Patinkin singing in Yiddish, and leave us be. Should you ambush Camp Miklasz, you'll be pelleted by these:
Ironically, it wasn't the blog of pictures from the UK Daily Mail of taboo words no one should ever use online if they don't want to be followed by the US government that caught your eye. It was the blog with the title all in Polish, which I hope you ran through your translators, which is really metaphorically more about fat pants than sassy pants, by which you have no practical context to analyze. It was also about sinning and breaking God's commandments. Too bad you don't have Ted Kennedy to run THAT past anymore. He *did* die, did he not?
Admittedly, I don't pay much attention to politics and the news, more concerned with creative pursuits and can't afford the Sunday New York Times, so I have a friend save me articles of interest.
While invited to protest the NATO summit with the late badass Warren Zevon's family, doing doo-wop parody protest songs, I had to stay the fuck out of downtown that day and wasn't consequently pepper-sprayed, manhandled by Chicago cops and my djembe was thereby preserved.
While part-German, the only Nazi-like quality I harbor is with regard to grammar and proper use of the English language:
Here's me in a nutshell:
Should you decide to pay me a visit, bring a bundt cake and I'll be SURE to be wearing my sassy pants. Or sassypants (one word). My sassiest pants are by far my yoga pants, though I don't do yoga. Then again, I own a t-shirt that says "Fuck Everything," though I don't do that either. Or better yet, I'll wear my almost-neon watermelon corduroys. Now THOSE are sassypants sassy pants. I wore them on a date with a color-blind....never mind. Need to know!
Happy Reading and ya'll come back soon, ya hear?