Thursday, December 18, 2008

Inn'r Chy'!!

Kind greetings fellow waywards, today I come to you from my dark, warm cave. We all have a dark, warm cave: a place to retreat and meditate, re-evaluate, dream. Oh, heaven and hell, I understand you as I do. Corpus Christi, why not do what we want to do, if doing is all we have? Yes, sure, we live among law and 'civilized' society! Yes, nature has a way balancing itself, and man make laws and that is nature and balance. Further, we as individuals claim prerogative to decide our own good and our own bad and our own goals and who shall be our friends and the day we switch hands to wipe our asses for the sake of breaking our own routine. We do. We are pregnant. Everyone of us. Inside of us lives an ideal. The rational call it a conscience, the religious call it the holy spirit, the crazies call it a voice - the true self, the deep down intuition, the ding au sich that is always right and can never be wrong or blind or unaware or ignorant. Take its commands seriously, it is you without any tainted influence, obey you as you would do for you. It knows, it knows, its you, its you, do what you do, you, do do doo!

I dont know! Drink a pot of coffee and read a book cover to cover with athletic concentration! Find a way to jump off a building without hurting yourself. Get naked in public! Grab an old ladies hair and yank it! Build a house upside down! Scream, right now, DO IT, right where your sitting, who cares, DO IT, stop thinking, DO IT! DOOOOOOOOOOOOO'

Monday, December 1, 2008

Got Glad

Its getting colder and a lot of revolutionaries probably are cursed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I just wanted to throw an idea your way that might keep shiz in perspective. Whenever I get down, I say to myself, "Man, its all relative." Here are some personal examples:

'shiz, I hate making my bed everyday'... 'ster, at least you GOT a bed'
'why am i so lazy? what am i doing with my life! ...'ster, at least you GOT a life’
'I'm unhappy with the size or performance of my genital member'... 'ster, at least you GOT a dick.'

Now, that last one was not personal. Do you think I would joke so openly, I mean, no, yes, I am appreciative that I have a penis, ok, well for my guys out there, I'm just making a point that, haha point, anyway, that its not at all the end of the world if your octopus tentacle is more like an escargo. If your snake is more like a rat tail. If your rod is more like a ipod wire. I say this because its relevant to the season, its getting even colder guys, we need to protect ourselves, genital-ly AND pyschosexually.

To sum up my message about how its all relative - I would like to offer a pun heavy analogy: Sometimes we’re down, but you’ll be happier if you just realize what you got - a few bucks to buy a magazine or even a happy thought - and use those to pump yourself up, again.

And this one also: When your being hard on yourself, maybe its healthy, if your thinking...relative.

Oh, and this one: Give yourself a hand!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Nobody Vote!

Please everyone just leave it to me! I'll cast the vote and we'll all be okay...
Just to let you know I'm voting for me... ME!
...if not me, then the Reverend Al Sharpton...

Friday, October 24, 2008

The Brown Revolution

We have been extremely fortunate to witness the birth of several extremely important movements in the past decade or so. Being on the most productive sides of both the green and energy revolutions has shaped our society greatly! Not to mention the revolutions taking place in religion, lifestyle, and hopefully politics (granted you know who wins the election). However, I'm eager to talk about a revolution that has seemed to ease ever so gently from the recesses of our mind into the stream of consciousness undetected. Ooo What movement is this I speak of?? Why it is none other than the bowel movement! The Brown Revolution!
Like most movements, it's hard to pinpoint the exact time or location in which the bowel movement was conceived. Was it the creation of South Park's Mister Hankey by Tray Parker and Matt Stone that relaxed every one's fears? Or possibly the wild influx of Indian and Mexican restaurants into the country, which left us with no choice, but to find the closest toilet. Whatever it was, it changed things.
The bathrooms of the 90's were a very strange scene. The urinals were always full, and the stalls were only reserved for those who also had to urinate, but were too afraid to use a urinal, due to the fear of the man next to you peeking at your junk! This was usually the case because you were either A. Equipped like a 14 year-old or B. Extremely homophobic and arrogant enough to think that gay men were interested enough in you to try to take a peek at your wee wee, when they probably had no clue that you even existed.
Either way it was silly and one day, somewhere around the year 2003, it started to deteriorate! People stopped caring! not only about dropping a dirty brown or two in public, but about the entire subject! People began to open up to each other about their own fecal experiences, sharing restroom exploits and potty humor! Why I remember it like it was yesterday, the first time sir Jesse told me that he hadn't had a solid poop in 8 years and when a week later motley ster told me that his poops were so sharp that they had sliced his cornhole into a star shape! It became a normal thing for a man or woman to say "Man! I'll be right back, I've got to take a Huge shit!" Stalls are no longer occupied by teeny weenie homophobes or chronic masturbators, but by people taking poos! And those waiting in line for stalls and not urinals? Not a man embarrassed because his johnson curves to the left a bit and then back to the right like a spasming king snake or a hunch backed newt, but a big ugly bastard who has to drop a wet sausage so mighty that he'll know afterwards the pain that is giving birth to something that's a 16th of your body weight! (Now the healing can begin). Let's keep this thing going world! Pooping in toilets is only the first step! I say we take this movement to the streets! To our jobs! To the fields and forests! No longer will our feces only fall in familiar facilities, but all over the world! So when you ask your friend "Hey man, does this bar have a nice bathroom?" and he sarcastically replies "Does a Bear shit in the woods?" (translation:definitely or most certainly). Then your reply will surely be a triumphant and resounding "Yes he does!!... and SO DO I!"

P.S. A note to all of the boys from Carnage GT middle school in Raleigh, NC circa 1999: Please stop kicking down the doors to all of the boys bathroom stalls, It's really hard to drop a deuce comfortably when every one can see you, point and laugh, and throw things... I'm not ashamed or anything, but that's just a real asshole thing to do.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Pathos in Prose

I had lunch with my comrades, my seed-heavy wayward revolutionaries - a pot luck. We decided we would not bring food for the body but food for the soul. We passed around a few cigarettes and opened our hearts to each other in a park in Red Hook at an old picnic table. We fed each other substantial spoonfuls of childhood memory, vulnerable expressive idea, offered gulps of personal opinions - no judgment involved! This type of honesty and utter acceptance, my patrons of revolution, is a strip lit path toward revolution.
We sat their with Sir Jesse and listened to his story about the first time he put on reading glasses. How he stood completely still in that same place for 62 hours. 62 hours! His initial feeling of pleasure and empowerment enabled him to ignore the countless Duane Reade workers trying to pursued him to exit the store or at least reposition further from the cashier area. How the longer he went without acknowledging anyone or moving from where he was built mental strength upon courage, and furthermore how he underwent physical tests of endurance from not sitting to rest. He pissed and shat in his pants multiple times! He was not fearful of what others thought or said, or when they took pictures and giggled. Despite managers and watered down rent-a-cops Sir Jesse stood there with dignity for his own accord, then when he was ready - he chose to leave. He went back to his apartment and turned on the romantic comedy When Harry Met Sally. I love that guy more deeply in a wayward way now.
We sat their with Ben the Spider and listened to his story about the day he didn't eat a pie. For weeks - hell - years, Ben the Spider has said, 'eat a pie, save a life'. He opened up the painful memory of the time he was loitering on the street and feeling woozy. A good-natured family passing through happen to pick the Spider for asking directions. The Spider was turned around himself as his focus was all off and he sent them down a one-way road. They thanked him graciously - fifteen feet and one right turn later a hummer suddenly ended the life of that honda civic and any other miserable existence inside the civic. The Spider played audience to this real life real time drama. (He also found one of the five year olds fingers in his jacket pocket. Weird that it happen to fly in just right like that.) His blood-sugar was low for he disregarded his innate predispositional beliefs for the importance of sweets earlier that day at a diner. Ben the Spider feels the burden of that familys miserable deaths. I understand his pain and passions more fully. I, also, love that guy more deeply in a wayward way now.
So as you go about your seemingly boring lives: readers, seekers, and re-seekers; open yourselves up to each other. Share yourselves, don't be shy. I'll bet the person behind the eyes on the other side of the table is just as fucked up and has just as much baggage.

Monday, October 13, 2008

To Catch a Tourist

I've received many complaints in the last few weeks about a very real and deadly menace roaming our streets, Ladies and Gentlemen I want you to know that your plea hasn't fallen on deaf ears. Your wish to get rid of this disgusting plague will be addressed right... now... Tourists are a foul species that are (as you know) best eliminated immediately, regardless of nationality. So to get rid of them, one need only to apply a treatment similar to that of an ancient garden gnome remedy. When you see a tourist cleverly sneaking into your city, it would be in your best interest to either A. Burn them alive immediately, or B. Douse them in a mixture appropriately called "Serpent's Discharge" which consists of 3 cups of papa john's garlic sauce, 3 bottles of Aristocrat Vodka (or anything cheaper), and the blood of either an innocent human or a Boston terrier with an extremely shifty disposition (seeing as how they are equal in both value and purity). I'm warning you now that whore's blood will not work. Many locals have tried using the blood of a wayward whore thinking that it makes no difference only to find that the tourist becomes not only faster and stronger, but also more curious and invasive than ever imagined. Please for the love of God, don't be a dick. Only baby's blood will suffice, they have it in bulk at your local nursery.
Now I'm sure burning alive is quite easy to comprehend, but just in case I've lost you somewhere, here is what you need to do. Get fire... you know, fire. Then in a fit of unadulterated and unparalleled rage put the fire on the tourist, the rest will take care of itself I assure you. If the tourists skin seems somewhat flame retardant, gasoline may be applied. As for the "Serpent's Discharge", the process is a bit more complicated. First you must put the mixture in a 5 gallon bucket and mix thoroughly. After that you must make sure that the time is approximately dusk or DU:SK on your watches. When both of these criteria are filled, then you must quickly toss the mixture upon the vile vermin before it can spot you and scurry up a tree or back into it's hole... or sedan...or Chrysler town and country. If done right the tourist should look at you with a flash of anger before appearing perplexed and then resigning to defeat, getting in their car, and going back to the hell hole that they crawled out of. I hope these remedies will be followed closely and accurately, as I would hate to have to hear of the serious turmoil of a town who cannot rid itself of this menacing... menace... Keep it real ya'll.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Motley's Pick-up Tactics #41

This particular tactic was a personal realization from the divergence of two co-existing characteristics, but that doesn't mean that you can't use it. One, I certainly enjoy gum. Two, I also have TMJ, which prevents me from chewing for long periods of time without pain. This circumstance seems counter-productive to any goal and yet has really been a blessing, and here's how. When I spot a girl chewing gum I can say, 'hey, do you have any gum?'. Boom: Initiation and common ground established. They offer me a fresh piece no sooner before I say, 'actually, I'd prefer if you give me what you already have in your mouth?'. At first, they suspicion mal intent until I fill them in on my condition. 'I need the gum already broken in,' I say. I then follow with, 'its for my condition, TMJ'. Zip: a condition, ladies love a guy with complexities. They instantly agree and hand it over, 'but it wont have any flavor,' they say. As I take the gum and its too late for them to turn back, I put it in my mouth and say, 'sure it does, its got _____ flavor' and fill in her name. Pow: you've just broken the self-contention and expressed your interest. Your in.
Plus, how kinky is that that you have her gum in your mouth! Its a real winner. I recently went out to eat with nice piece of fall-for-the-condition-ass that chewed up my steak for me, at Applebee's! I could feel her spit mixing with mine as she passed the chewed steak to me.
What I'm actually doing is seducing the date by igniting deep seeded motherly instincts just as a mother bird upchucks chuck for the baby bird during fledging - its the same psychology. Careful, the birds compulsion becomes and addiction. Fall-for-the-condition-ass from the past blow up my cell all the time. "Motley, can I please come over and chew some macaroni for you." "Motley, I know you love beef jerky, I just happen to have some here at my apartment, please, come over and let me feed it to you, I'm already chewing". Damn, bird, slow down, I just met you!
Listen, I've filled you in a huge dating tactic, but use it wisely. And remember: after you've spent tactic #41 as a pick-up you can never participate in food foreplay with that bird again. I repeat, food foreplay is off limits. Take it from the creator himself, I had a bad accident with a girl named Annette and a hotdog bun. Go get'em!

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Cloven Collectivity


Numbers: The single equation accounting for the upheaval of post-modern structure (no pun intended nor facial aside to the imaginary fourth wall de satirical expression). The analytical mind of intellectuals delegating highly filtered and jaded educational hand-outs to the innocent youth is the continuous resultation for robot heretics and metaphorical continental divide. Thank you so very much for endowing the overman with the tools to alter his predestined complacent existence into an obsessive compulsive unemployed savage, for giving brunt browed working man a long weekend of shameful gambling slothery. Thank you dead idea for your natural selection of democratic leeches, sucking healthy baby blood into fungi-filled pyre-veins pumping the diseased heart of societies computational monster. Wow. I'm not speechless that numbers are evil. Numbers splatter creativity, attribute to false pretense, stifle, stun, and stink. Personally, I enjoy cognition. It may have been one of my most enjoyable activities had numbers not plagued my hemispheres into a grand canyon of exhausted ding au sich and folly. Let us be numbers! Leave us create our selves! No thanks! No how! No way!
Comrades, I beseech you to think on this. How can we end world hunger?...Finished? Now, think on this...a tootsie pop commercial in the 1980's had the audacity to ask 'how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop?' not but a smidgen before counting "1,2,3..(bite)...3". I still remember that commercial vividly, and I bet so do you, I'm also willing to bet you've fired more neurons meditating that clever advertising plug slash corporate-manipulated nostalgic memory than the solution to your fellow man's empty belly... I'm willing to- ah shit! you see! here I go gambling again!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Doo' Music for Wayward Revolutionaries

Ghostland Observatory

This uncompromisingly in your face electric indie band is composed of front man Aaron Behrens and producer/drummer Thomas Turner. Based out of Austin TX, this two man wrecking crew is rocking live audiences all over the US. Haven't heard of them? Check out the two videos posted here, then check out their website at

I have two videos here because Ghostland has no music videos, only live performances. So I included the studio version of their single "Sad Sad City" and a fan video from their performance at bonnaroo '08, which is so sick it hurts.

Make sure to watch all of this next video, It starts out fairly tame, and takes you to a whole different dimension.

...Why? Because if there's going to be a revolution, people have to get fired up. And to get fired up, you're going to need some good music.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

On the importance of Dessert... delicious...

I have noticed a self destructive pattern eating away at out generation. It is a flame of self hate engulfing the very spirit of our nation and it starts right after dinner. Let me take you through the scenario: You've just finished your meal, you're feeling close to satisfaction and hoping that if you keep sipping your water, you'll get there before leaving the restaurant. Suddenly, your extremely attractive college undergrad waitress asks you the question of the day, "Would you be interested in dessert?" you think about the dessert choices that you took note of before your initial order. An apple crumb cake, or maybe even a chocolate fudge brownie caught your eye, maybe you were feeling froggy and wanted to leap headfirst into a bananas foster cheese cake with a bailey's cream sauce... or something like that. Then you think about your figure and you politely decline the temptation of adding a sugary conclusion to your night... Who the hell do you think you are!? Wait! Allow me to answer that! A Traitor! And for those of you who don't follow my logic, I'll explain it to you just to be fair. So let's just say that on Wednesday you decide that you don't want that delicious chocolate croissant after your meal. Later that night, because of the void left by your lack of dessert, you find yourself binge eating to make up for you craving, trying to gain the satisfaction you gave up in favor of looking healthy in front of your friends. So you gorge yourself on cheez-its, chocolate milk, ice cream, and those little SnackWells fat free devils food cookie cakes (that look so damn good, but are never as delicious as you want them to be) before dragging your swelling body into your room and passing out upside down on your full size tempurpedic mattress. Because of your late Wednesday night gorge fest, Thursday morning is spent blowing feces out of your rectum at such an alarming rate that you can feel your cheeks lifting off of your toilet seat, which puts you off of the thought of eating breakfast, so you skip it. Thursday afternoon finds you in a bad position on the job, lacking focus due to lack of nourishment. Unfortunately for America, your job involves the design of very important infrastructure. So you, being malnourished, doze off before a huge deadline instead of, checking one last time for that one tiny flaw (that we all know exists), before you hand it over to your superiors who immediately begin construction as not to upset taxpayers... How you could you be so careless? And what's worse is that while your beloved tunnel or bridge is collapsing on all of our beloved citizens, You'll be thinking to yourself "Damn... I should've had that pie". So please, for the love of God, remember this phrase: Eat a pie, Save a life. Remember that, and may God have mercy on your sin-sick soul.

And this is for you!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Expounding on Glasses

I hold that contacts and good-eye sight stand for the bane of the existence of our modern community and the death of the discipline of all of the "Free thinkers"; discipline that these thinkers of freedom need. What a bunch of lazy cockroaches. Hmm what could we do? We could actually do something productive, (like march to a resounding fanfare of oppressive freedom) or we could sit around and think freely. Sit around on our asses and think freely. What do free thinkers REALLY think about? If you look at all of the words that have the word free in them what do you come up with? Lets see, freeloader, free sex, free drugs, free deaths, get-out-of-jail-free card, get-out-of-trouble free card, free money, genofreecide, infantifreecide. None of which are moral ideas. All of these terrible things are happening around us. We cry out "Why? Oh God why? Why is there death? why do all of these terrible things happen? Why did MacDonald's discontinue the Arch Deluxe, the burger with the grown up taste? WHY?" And we cry and we cry AND-WE-CRY. I know this sounds harsh; pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and such, and I know that many of you can't afford bootstraps or boots. But for the small price of a few dollars you can dig yourself out of this lazy lifestyle of whining and purchase a pair of reading glasses.Reading glasses look great, of course they give you something to play with or stick in your mouth and shut you up for five minutes, but I hold that the most important thing about glasses is that once you wear them you won't want to whine or stick anything in your mouth. No you will immediately feel a fantastic feeling. That is the feeling of Superiority, Condescension, that aloof removed better than you feeling that so much of us crave and badly need to pull us out of the recession or great depression of humble whining bitches.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Doo' Music for Wayward Revolutionaries


An awesome seemingly funk psycadelic rock band based in Brooklyn (Where me and Jesse are I might add). Check out "electric feel" below, and then check out their website at .

MGMT - "Electric Feel" Music Video

Why? Well what's the point of a revolution with out general debauchery? And for good debauchery, you need good music!

Saturday, September 20, 2008

On Fascism (which gets a bad rep)

There seems to be a mental plague squirming in the dark recesses of the Young American mind that suggests that fascism is a negative thing. If you are one of those young Americans, then all I can say is "Shame on you". Why? Because you've been dancing in the blinding light of freedom for so long that you've forgotten one of life's most important lessons. Discipline. You see, living in a capitalist democracy has not only made us soft and pudgy, it has made us lazy, stupid, and greedy. We boast so much about the power of free thought, but when you live in a nation filled with idiots, where does free thinking get us? What does it get us? I'm for Fascism because I'm fed up with people thinking for themselves when they lack the mental capacity to make decent decisions. I'm sick of lazy, rich, trust fund bastards having a say in the running direction of our economy, while the rest of us have to sit along for the ride (a downward spiral). I'm sick of the smarter, more well rounded elite being smothered under the fat rolls of the fortunate and the wicked, And I say we take this nation back! This time with an iron fist! And with that iron fist we will crush the spirits of the wicked, the Godless, the lazy, and the mentally handicapped! We will march from sun up to sun down singing the praises of our powerful, all knowing, and infinitely charismatic

Better to have the naturally gifted run this country, than the other way around! Don't want to research alternative fuel? Well you don't have a choice! Oh, you're not into stem cell research? We have a holding cell for people like you! Don't want to march in a giant parade holding a picket sign with a large picture of my face on it smiling admirably at the progressive nature of our new Fascist nation? I've got two sets of two words for you; "Suck it!" or "Firing Squad!", and I'll allow you to choose which two you prefer... Am I not merciful?

The Asshole Effect

The Asshole Effect

The youth in this country have no drive, no determination and there is a prevalent lack of discipline. Those generations which we look up to, the cool ones were perhaps lazily dressed, pot-smoking over drinkers who liked to party and didn't bathe BUT!, they were disciples of something great. Discipline. Discipline of the mind, what they wanted to achieve. We are a hopeless generation. A whole heard of youth in credit card debt who bleat and moan continuously about our calling in life, our independence. Wah. Fucking, Wah. Wah-wah. Wah wah wah.
But there is a solution. I have discovered it. A two fold non partisan easy quick fix for all of us lazy whiners. I say two-fold because I have found one solution and my esteemed colleague has found the other.
1. Fascism. WHAT WE NEED MY FRIENDS IS FASCISM! Good old fashioned order. No music except that which is deemed appropriate by out fearless leaders whomever they may be. Gray pressed five button uniforms for all. Bald heads for men. Short hair for the ladies. Marching. Lots of Marching. If we would march more and bitch less I’m certain that in 7-10 Business days we would all be more fulfilled. (Not necessarily more happy in the western sense) but more fulfilled and isn't that what we all want dear reader? Fulfillment. Think on it, how fantastically fulfilling would it be to get up in the morning, put on your grays, check your head for hair growth, and go do some marching!?!?!? If you watch people who march as I do frequently when I am not crying about my life, they just look so damn fulfilled.
2. Reading Glasses. At your local Duane Reade you can purchase a simple pair of reading glasses. Nothing too fancy of course as we in the fascist department wish for a significant lack of ornamentation among our comrades. Something simple. Light and Sweet. And Black. Square. And Boring. Reading glasses will provide us with the asshole effect, the feeling that we are better than others and we are! Or Could feel that way anyway! Imagine a nation of assholes wearing cheap reading glasses. And whenever the Canadians or the Mexicans or any other nation bad mouths us for, say the Iraqi sanctions administered by the Clinton administration responsible for the deaths of over 500,000 innocent Iraqi children, we can cough, and daintily with thumb and forefinger pull our glasses down on our noses, peer suggestively over them and issue a significant cough or snort implying total and unabashed condescension. We in the Fascist dept. call it scoffing.

Yes my friends. There you have it. A healthy fool proof way to save our nation and perhaps, feel a little bit better about ourselves.