music to my ears?

I go to work early in the morning and sometimes I get home before anyone in the neighborhood, except the high school football coach two doors down, when football season is over.

Today I got home and the kid next door was shooting hoops in his driveway. He has one of those portable basketball goals that are on wheels, with a big plastic tank on the bottom that you fill up with sand for ballast. Anyway, he’s out there shooting baskets and he has his boom box turned up really loud. His mom works late and I guess his older sister runs the house until she gets home, but sis is upstairs playing her stereo really loud, because I can hear it outside the house, even with the kid’s boom box blasting. The kid in the driveway is playing his boom box really loud, too. He’s booming that song all over the neighborhood and I can even hear it when I go inside our house. You know the song I’m talking about. I don’t know the name, but the words are:

Motherfucker, motherfucker
Motherfucker, motherfucker
Motherfucker, motherfucker
Motherfucker, motherfucker

Yeah! That one.

Actually, I hate that piece of shit, but it’s better than that goddamned Christmas Shoes song-- although not much. I have to ask myself, what kind of music—if you can call it that—are these kids listening to these days?

Yeah, I remember back when I was a young man and I had my stereo down in the basement and I would occasionally listen to my music at an elevated volume. Sometimes, Dick Clinch, Sr., would open the door to the basement and shout down at me:

“Turn down that noise!”

But, that was different. The music we listened to in my youth was different and revolutionary, and I’m sure it sounded unusual to the older generation, but it was good music. Classic stuff. It wasn’t just some guy sampling someone else’s song and adding a rap banter to it. It wasn’t just some guy taking a vinyl record and twisting it back and forth on a turntable to provide background noise while he repeated that word to describe African-Americans that we would never use to describe African-Americans.

Anyway, I guess it’s just a different world, today, and I guess this afternoon is just a sampling of how we’ve gotten there. I mean, I’ve got some nineteen-year-old girl next door listening to Megadeath or Metallica, while she is supposed to be watching her younger brother who is out in the driveway listening to some motherfucker calling himself a motherfucker and some other ethnic slur. I’m inside the house, but I can’t help listening to both of them.

Yes, sir, it’s a different world.

Or my name isn’t Dick Clinch.

heaven

I dreamed last night I died and went to heaven.

Some of you are saying to yourselves right now, “That’s the last place I thought Dick Clinch would end up.”

Ha, ha, that’s funny. I mean you could take what you just said two ways. Oh, never mind.

Anyway, God was a black woman. I wasn’t expecting that. As a matter of fact, God anticipated that I wouldn’t.

“Shit, motherfucker,” God said to me, “you were expecting some old cocksucker with white hair and a beard? No fuckin’ way. You can’t trust whitey and you can’t trust old men. I mean, if I was a man, they’d be some women get in who didn’t deserve to. I mean, they’d get down on their knees and worship and worship until God come in dey mouth.”

“Then they say to God, ‘they mo’ of dat fo’ you ifin you let me stay here. I’ll make it heaven for you every day.’”

“Fuck, if God was a man, he’d say ‘Sure as shit, whore. You can swallow me every day.’”

“And she’d pleasure God every day for a week or so, and then, when she was sure she was in, she’d start fuckin’ with God—and I don’t mean having intercourse. She’d start givin’ God a bunch of shit and tellin’ him that oral sex was nasty and she’d stop doin’ it. Hell, you know how womens is. Anyway, you’d have some whore running around up here who didn’t deserve to be here. Hell, who am I kiddin?’ You have scads of skanks runnin’ around here, holdin’ out on God.”

I couldn’t help myself and asked God why was it the Bible made it sound like a woman was responsible for original sin and that mankind would forever dwell in misery because of women.

“You believe that shit, motherfucker,” asked God? "If I had anything to do with it, they’d never have told the story that way. In defense of the dickhead that wrote it, though, it wouldn’t have worked the other way. I mean, if you had Adam pull the apple and try to put it in Eve’s mouth, she’d have never bit. You can’t talk a woman into anything unless you have something to trade. You’re a heterosexual male. You know that. Hell, this was back before money or luxury cars. What could Adam have offered Eve to get her to go along? Nothing, that’s what.”

“And, if the snake were to come along to try to talk Adam into doing it in the first place, that snake’d better have had a pussy with a ‘welcome’ sign on it or no gag reflex.”

I asked God what happened when someone on the religious right showed up here. I asked her how they reacted to her being female and black.

“Not many of ‘em show up here,” she told me. “We have another place for them. Entry into my kingdom is based on your good works down there. We don’t consider being the oppressors as being good work—especially when they do it in my name. Yeah, they go somewhere else and I always ask the satanic motherfucker who runs the place to give ‘em an extra poke or two and to turn up the heat a notch. Now, that’s one cocksucker who fuckin’ hates me, but he pokes ‘em anyway and has no problem uppin’ the heat.”

I told God I had tried to lead a good life, but there were a couple of things I wasn’t proud of and that I had missed quite a few Sundays going to church. I asked how I made it up there when some obvious dedicated churchgoers didn’t.

“Well, Dick Clinch,” said God, “you could have done a whole lot better, but you did hate Bush and Cheney, and that got you in. Because I hate them, too. The satanic son of a bitch that runs the other location hates my ass, but he owes me some favors. I’m gonna’ call ‘em in when I get those two situated down there. It’s good being God, because even the most important man in the world is just another dickhead I get to fuck with.”

I woke up at that point and realized it was all a dream. I hope that you have pleasant dreams in which Bush, Cheney and the religious right all burn in hell. And I mean that.

Or my name isn’t Dick Clinch.

an adventure into cyberspace

Call me Dick.

There are some things I don't like. Don't get me wrong. I'm pretty happy with the way most things are going, but there are some things that need changing and we don't seem to have a government that wants to change them for the better.

Here is what I like.

Long walks on the beach at sunrise (or sunset)
America
Freedom
The constititution
The flag
Chicks

Here is what I don't like.

The president
The republican congress
Fuck ups (which is why I don't like the first two)
Anyone named Osama
Budget deficits
The religious right
Anyone who tells me what I should believe or not believe
Anyone who tries to stop progress and the advancement of intelligence
(which is why I don't like the religious right and Osama)


There are a lot of other things I like and a number of other things I don't. For example, did I mention that I like chicks? But I don't like people that tell me I have to like chicks. It's kind of like, I really like that Scion Tc, but I wouldn't want people telling me I had to like it. That brings me to why I am writing this blog. I think it is time to get my ideas out where people can read them, and I think it's time to find out whether anyone agrees with me. Keep tuning in and I'll keep telling you what I think and why I'm right.

Or my name isn't Dick Clinch.