The Lovely Bastards Podcast 2: Super Bowl Shuffling/Audio Fun

Better late than never...join The Bastards as we review the Super Bowl as special guest Peyton Manning drops by. Plus disturbing tales of our pal Drew along with some fun with real audio.

He’s White, He’s Loud, He’s Conservative…

No, I’m not talking about Rush Limbaugh either. I’m talking the lazy co-author of this blog.

Truth be told, I’m half white, fully loud and I respect a man that can say he’s right wing (and makes sense like a Dennis Miller for example). My problem with him is, while self-deprecating at times, he is proud. Being an only child, the gap of having human contact has been replaced with John’s ethnic pride.

Don’t get me wrong, if it were national, honest, too stupid to be wrong American pride, I’d be on board. If he drove a Chevy Silverado and brandished a 2x4 everywhere he went, he’d be an icon, like this dude…

 

As it stands he’s Irish. A lot of my best friends are Irish…and they piss me off. While, St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish, the “holiday” is an excuse to get drunk, have a parade and drive tourism. I have no problem with the Irish fabricating a holiday just to get more loaded than usual. Kiss me I’m Irish, ladies? No thanks, you probably have a swollen, clotted, gin blossom of a nose, a gut and some form of depression that will kill my buzz and libido. Oh and fellas, when you realize you better “cash in” on you (mis)forutune of being Irish and try to score with the ladies and inevitably strike out, you’ll try to start a fight and, of course, ruin everyone’s time around you, not unlike the Italians.

But back to John, nationalities aside (which we’ll get back to shortly), he really dislikes the decade in which he was conceived and born…the 1980s.

Keep in mind that he hated high school (started in the 90s) all the way to present. I’m pretty sure he’d hate the 70s and complain about disco…he’s essentially has the perpetual disposition of a male (or just) Penny Marshall. While I shout, shout, shout it out loud that the 80s where a decade of big hair and even bigger guilty pleasures, Johnnyboy screams, “Feh!”

When talking about the movies of the 80s, Johnboy says,

The Breakfast Club - I wanted every kid in that library to die. The Big Chill - I wanted everyone in that house to die. Rain Man - I wanted everyone in that casino to die. Top Gun - I wanted everyone in that plane to die, and got lucky by getting to watch one crap out. Back To The Future - I wanted everyone in 1955 to die. I don't think I need to go on.

He wants everyone to die. That’s for comedic shock value, right? Not quite, let it be known that ole Johnnyboy is actually half Russian and this pretty much falls in line with the country’s sentiments in the 1980s.

If I were to sit my 5 year old nephew down and have him watch 80s tv and movies, he’d probably hate Russia. President Reagan told us they were the evil empire. The 1980s US Olympic hockey team defeated the evil Russians in one of the most iconic sports moments in history. Ivan Drago took steroids, kills Apollo Creed, then gets pummeled by Rocky on Christmas and eventually Russia turns on Drago. Even Russia knows they are evil. But John doesn’t think he is evil and he damn well should. If tar and feathering could still exist, may Johnyboy be the first.

God Bless America and the Happiest of Belated Birthdays to one of the funniest pricks I know.

 -JF

Tiny Bauco

Recently, my old pal Johnnyboy got into a Twitter-war with his buddy, Gentle Ken. Ken is a longtime partyer, but trying to keep a clean professional image on Twitter of all places...naturally John chose to tease him until he was blocked. So, who won? Well Ken looks a lot like Elton John, so let this video sway your vote.



Face it, you love that scene in Almost Famous...unless you're John, he hates everything.

-JF

The Fixie Bike Craze

Well this post may raise the ire of some people. A few which I know on a first name basis. I harbor no ill will towards them and I think everyone should have interests. Schizophrenics have pacing, the obsessive compulsives have washing their hands, mathletes have masturbation and the chronically dull have fixie bicycles. Don't know what a fixie is? Well you lucky devil you... here is a picture...Take a look at that. It's what the product of an incestuous relationship between one of Dr. Seuss's nightmares and one of his wet dreams would look like. This notwithstanding, scads of young people have taken to this nonsense like flies to shit ; which truly is the perfect analogy. It is a bicycle my friends, no more, no less. The bicycle which for all intents and purposes is a lovely creation stemming from the need to get around is nothing more than a mode of transportation. In some instances it is used for competitive sport and in others, for exercise. Some people like to just take a leisurely ride on a Sunday afternoon in the warmer months. Yet my generation for some reason has decided that this utilitarian way of getting around has to be artistic. It HAS to be, or else the passion would be exposed for what it is ; a hobby.

The sad truth folks is that when people look back a hundred years from now they will look at this generation as a group of people who were pissed off that they had nothing to be pissed off about and that was so bereft of anything truly inspirational that they tacked, "art" on to anything they could find. Biking counter-culture? For the love of God why? The cynical need for everyone to have their own niche is getting frustrating to the point of angering. Must everything have a counter-culture attached to it? From now on I'm going to gussy up my Q-Tips. Dye them, maybe import synthetic materials to form the swabs. OH OH OH I know... I'll get groups of other depressing fuckers who cling to these hobbies for the fact that they are personally boring and need these pursuits to have something to talk about together, and we can swap stories about particularly "gnraly" veins of earwax we had "shredded." I will call them, "Tipsy's' and it will become the next sensation! It's not too far from the truth.

Is there merit to the fixie bike craze? You'd think that I would say no but you'd be wrong. There is a tremendous amount of merit to it and the most glaring kernel of merit is this ; it keeps these kinds of people away from me and from other like minded people who don't have their heads in the clouds about bicycles or sing songs about Druids. I suppose that anything that inspires you to the point of creativity or passion is meritorious. That being said, I am smarter than you and thus my opinions hold much more water. To then end this post after the last point... save yourselves youth of America, contribute your piss an' vinegar to something that really matters, find hobbies that don't make others point and stare... and get some fucking jobs.

-Johnnyboy

Grab Back, Fight and F***

Who doesn't want to be back in their glory days? I for one, miss them more than anything. For me, they were quickly arrived and even more quickly gone. I wont go through the guts of the days I miss, because frankly, they are my memories and I want to keep them as such. Just think back for a moment... to your fondest years. Soak those memories in and then open your eyes. How can I forgive myself for letting them go by so quickly?

Songs flood my memory, images, instances, feelings of immense happiness and dread. Sometimes all the same. Where are those faces that run past my mind's eye at this moment? All alive but yet some are dead, truly. Some of those faces are gone. Never really gone though because I am thinking about them and writing about them. Can I be angry at myself because I never said some of the things I should have said when the time was right? No. The time wasn't right then, but now it is past due. So my apologies and thank yous are in the mail . Better late than never right?

Warm Summers gave way to cold Winters, yet ups and downs not withstanding the seasons were and are just as vibrant and alive in my mind as memories from earlier today. Something had to make them stand out. Skating with Scofield and Dro (may he rest in peace in God's hands) behind Border's in the parking garage, and that weird puddle, Phil and his old house with my best friends watching Prime Time Glick, Jon's old house in Bridgeport which to this day even though he no longer lives there I would NEVER, ever beep my horn in front of, Kevin's basement and writing songs which were played live to kids by myself and my old band who will never remember the night they heard our efforts nor felt our nervousness, kisses, kickflips, 40's, Saabs, mix CD's, addresses, faces, names, numbers, faces, parties, beers, shots, blunts, smiles, instances, faces, time, memories.... I'll never be there again. I just thank God that they're all in my head and I pray not for salvation, but that those memories never leave.

And maybe that is salvation. Who knows?

-John

About the Lovely Bastards; and Why You Should Listen to our Podcasts

Greetings. Jon eluded to the man-hours it takes to put this amazing oasis of literary gold on the Internet. For the first time ever. we are going to show you step by step how it's done. First off a little background on the Lovely Bastards themselves.

By: Graham D. Dee

John M. and Jon F. have been associates since they attended high school together in the late 1990's. They met whilst playing truly inspirational baseball for their beloved, Crowszerton High School for Gifted Fellas High School, High School.

In the Summer of 2001, John and Jon had a run in with a gang of skate-boarders and the two quickly became interested in all forms of roller-sports. After being exposed to such music as Camp Kill Yourself, Deftones, Hed pe, Nonpoint and other forms of angry white boy music, the two realized that they had a very different view of the reality which we all see around us. They hated it! After brief stints in and out of prison, Jon eventually trained and became a very influential and elusive abortion doctor. He currently resides in Connecticut and blogs about his brutal calling. After commercial success with his DVD series, "Celebrity look-alike 'Bortions" Jon decided it was time to leave the placenta behind and concentrate more on his beloved writing and disturbing hair. Here is the latest portrait painted of Jon, during his effeminate years

John has found major success in his drinking and slow procession to an early grave which he so dearly desires. As of now, no presentable photo of John is available and he likes it that way. Pathetic, he has taken to furious bouts of masturbation which leave him weak and unable to clean up. His friend and trusted colleague J. Son, : "I don't know, ya know. He's a beautiful guy, mind, body, soul and body. His powerful hands really have a power to them, I don't know.... ya know." At present neither heads nor tails can be made of this string of non-sequitors. John enjoys such hobbies as, writing imaginary dialogue for his two cats, siphoning whiskey through his penis and sneezing at babies.

The Lovely Bastards, which are almost a year old, is the offshoot blog of a former blog which in the end was a waste of time. The owner of said blog has fallen into a deep depression since the two intrepid authors declared their Independence and began their own page. He is currently the President of the Hamden Chapter of Diner Waitress-obsessed Zoophiles, or the "tan ten" as they are known. The Bastards, take huge amounts of time out of their lives to create and bring to you, FOR FREE, they might add, excellent literature, poetry and voice-entertainment.

The Bastards do most of their work here,

Once an idea is given ample attention, it is then decided if it, "has legs." Most of them do and it is then off to the races. The two will feverishly work on their prose until it fits their most demanding standards. Then, it is allowed to become a bonafide Lovely Bastards blog post. The podcasts, are another story all together. To hear what goes into an LB pcast, you must listen to the boys as they broadcast CONSTANTLY.

Yes the boys have come a long way and in other ways, little or no progress has been made. They will however keep on trucking and we can only thank God for that.

-G. D. Dee

Internet…As Defined By a Lovely Bastard

When I am not finding new ways to stick it to The Man, I oft contribute to this blog. Hmm, I guess I haven’t posted in a while. On second glance, I haven’t posted in a long while. I suppose that I have been sticking it to The Man a whole lot these days. With good reason I might add! Simply by looking at our title graphic, we love our music and movies ‘round here. Thanks to technology, I have been finding newer quicker ways to get the music, movies and television I so desire at my fingers through any means necessary (except anally, that’s just not practical, you sick fuck).

All you have to do is YouTube a video tutorial and you can find what you want without even having to read much…


This is because of Internet. Internet has dictated how we ignore others, watch sexual acts that I dare not try on a lady before 3 or more drinks, reconnect with old train wrecks and talk shit about (un)loved ones we only wish the worst.

Internet is also what helps keep me employed and provides the means I need to post my essential opinions to this Information Superhighway. While this post may turn out to be a bit on the short side, I want you all to know that writing a blog is truly hard work that takes many grueling hours. It is severe and unrelenting task and I want to give you all a little window into our blog infrastructure with this hi-resolution photo of Johnnyboy, myself and “the gang” hard at work. Enjoy…

Oh Internet, how I love thee.

-JF

Some Resolutions

Well Happy New Year I guess... so far none of the resolutions that I decided for myself have been working out. That's ok. I feel that I'm pretty perfect as it is, and it's you, the reader who needs to shape up to fit my specific needs. That's a topic for another post though, without further ado... some resolutions which I will actually TRY to make a reality.



1. Watch Jersey Shore Religiously

And why not? The girls are hot, except for Snooki and there is nothing more satisfying in our modern world of feminism and progressive thought than to hear a big, hulking neanderthal with a thick (put on) NY accent call girls, "creatures." I'm not Italian and as someone with Irish blood, I'm pretty happy that I'm not. In fact the Irish and the Italians don't really like each other. That being said, I love these guys. There's a fight every episode! Snooki has had her clock cleaned twice in three weeks! It's great stuff. If anyone says that there arent anymore extreme forms of entertainment like feeding people to lions, or gladiator fights... show them this freak show. By the way... the hot chick on the show, J-WOWW, with the huge fake boobs who wants a "guido"... her last name is Farley. Sorry Guiseppe go dunk your balls in some "gravy."



2. Watch Teen Mom Religiously

And why not? Once again, it's a freak show. MTV has really upped the anty with these horrible, yet addictive shows. I love this show for the simple fact that it makes me feel better about my life. I'm not a teenager anymore, but at least I don't have a fuckin kid. Also it's a great show to drink to... and yes by the end of each episode we're all talking about which one we'd bang. Plus when we watch the show, there is usually a moment in every episode where the obese chick with the squinty eyes cries, and that's just TV magic. There is something about watching that land-whale bawl that warms my heart and makes me smile. The sad thing here is the kids will all grow up to be awful wastes of life who will end up killing their mother's for exploiting their statuses as bastards during their infancy's. Oh man even better, when is it gonna be Tuesday????



3. Use a Chainsaw

And why not? I feel like a man should own a chainsaw. I don't really have any trees to cut down, but if one crops up, what the hell am I gonna do? Use an axe like my great great great granpappy did? Hell no, homey don't play that. I also want to get a picture of me wielding the chainsaw in a menacing fashion. So really, all I need is a camera and a chainsaw for like two minutes. If anyone out there could hook that up, that'd be dynamite. Get back to me.



In the end folks, I have a pretty good feeling about these three little resolutions. What will 2010 bring us? Last year, we had alot of celebrity deaths, our young energetic President didn't do a single thing he said he was going to do, the war in Afghanistan got worse, more jobs were lost, people got poorer and I got a really bad sunburn on vacation. I have a feeling it will be more of the same this year, but as long as I have television, alcohol and my best of the Monkees CD, I'll be all set. As for you, dear reader, I could care less, just don't bother me while I'm watching my stories.

Every Battle Is Won Before It's Fought

Jon and I like to have fun with this blog, and although our readership is minuscule, we do this for your benefit. So after my holiday post I feel it important to make this post. It's 1:15 on Christmas night... or more like 1:15 in the morning on Boxing Day. I didn't go to church today, but I spent the whole day with my family and sending Christmas pleasantries with my friends via texts and calls. I take this opportunity to say, Merry Christmas to you. CHRISTMAS. Not happy holidays. Whether you are Christian, or not you have to understand that the reason that you have a tree in your house, and that your received presents from loved ones today is because that Jesus Christ was born today. Or at least we've chosen this day to celebrate His birth. Love Him or not, believe in Him or not, without Him there's no Santa Claus, there's no egg nog, there's no nothing without Him, or the people who still have the balls to say they believe in and love Him. I say this for the simple fact that when I see a Jewish friend around this time of year I make it a point to say Happy Hanukkah. Because, after all it is Hanukkah time and I respect faith. If I see a Wiccan, after I stifle my vomit, I say Happy Solstice. Because I respect faith. When I see someone around Christmas, I as a Christian, am inclined to say Merry Christmas, just as the Wiccan is inclined to say Happy Solstice, or as a Jew is inclined to say Happy Hanukkah because it is something they believe in. Do I hold belief against someone if it is different from mine? No. I hear alot of keep Christ in Christmas talk. That's fine. He belongs in Christmas. The fact of the matter is that Christmas has taken on a mythic position in the minds of all. We're all a little nicer, and maybe we give the Salvation Army Santa a fiver instead of the dollar we give to the war vets who then hand you a cray paper flower. I say it is time to respect what the meaning of Christmas truly is. A time where we all realize that we are human beings with flaws, shortcomings and not all of us drive luxury cars. A time where I realize that alot of people don't have a beautiful Christmas tree next to them as I do, people who don't own a computer to blog on, great friends who would crawl for hell through them as I have, and a family that stands as a standard against time who's love is truly divine as I believe I have. Those people who don't... they need Christmas. We like it, they need it. Don't take Jesus out of Christmas. If we do, we eventually lose all of what Christmas means, as it is and is always, a very slippery slope. So I say to you as a Roman Catholic, Merry Christmas and glory to the world, as we have been given not only a Savior, but a time of year where we care a little bit more. If that isn't a product of the divine... well I really don't want to think about that.

Merry Christmas from Jon and John. Try to keep it through the year... you might surprise yourself.

Happy Holidays from the Lovely Bastards

Merry Christmas from Jon and myself. Probably won't be blogging between now and ol' Xmas so let me take this time to say... Enjoy your fucking egg nog and your over-cooked turkey. I hope your tree doesn't catch fire in the middle of the night on Xmas Eve and burn your house down. I truly wish that you aren't arrested for drunk driving on Xmas morn and raped by trogaladitic mongoloid inmates on Three Kings Day. Have a wonderful Kwaanza and any other bullshit, made up holidays that you feel important enough to celebrate. I know that this year I am truly looking forward to Crum Day, the day on which you profess your love for your family by eating cheesesteaks and drinking copious amounts of whiskey. May your Chanukkahdhsahjklfsd be filled with the glory of cheap oil heating, as it is this miracle which kept the Jewish people in affordable housing with utility costs at a bare minimum. All you lovely Wiccans out there... well... just die, please, seriously you're pathetic. Go read your "Cathy" comic strips and drink Chai Lattes until your gout finally claims your right foot and you have to hobble around like a chunky disabled witch. I'd sooner believe in the power of Dumbledor than the power of chanting nonsense words in a basement of some spinsters house while Enya endlessly drones on in the background.

Let me end this by paraphrasing the immortal words of The Night Before Christmas...

To My Dear Children, Love... Dad.
"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
and I was upstairs backdooring your mother, and pulling her hair.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I pulled out of ol' mom to see whats the matter?
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
my boner regally poking up against the glass.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but some fat fucker in a red suit chugging a beer.
The moon on the crest of the new fallen snow,
made me realize that tomorrow I'd have to shovel and that just blows.
More rapid than horses his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On Slippy on Drippy on Gassy and Faggy,
on Dermot on Mongo and move your ass Mackey Sasser,
to the top of the house to the top of the wall, now dash away dash away
do it you fuckers!
His deer didn't look healthy and neither did he,
his clothes were all sooty and he was covered in piss. (Thought I'd say, 'pee' didn't ya?)
Snot was running all down his 'stache and his pants were worn away
at the seat of his ass,
His bag of toys was a joke as it was all filled with trash,
and he referred to Mrs. Claus as, "his old, whiney gash"
Santa said I, what the fuck bro?
He looked at me and told me where to go.
He turned and he farted and pull out his hog,
he pissed on my tree and shit on my dog.
He threw some crap into the stockings,
coughed violently for a minute and vomited from hocking.
Santa, do you need some help? I exclaimed
"I don't need your help clown, now get back upstairs,
finish banging that broad but go easy on the hair."
The next morn we woke up to find the presents all there,
but so was Santa as he had passed away on the stairs.
The tox report said that he'd been on ludes and blow,
and the cold air didn't help nor did the snow.
But I'll never forget the last thing he said as turned with a wink,
"Merry Christmas you jagoff, go puke in the sink."

The End

Happy Holidays!!!