I sit in wonder, surrounded by sweltering filthiness, gazing out the window. It
is space that tickles my fancy. It is the universe that drives me forward. It is
the fiery marvel of that lone shooting star.
I am reminded of something a cult friend said to me once: "Brother RAD, so nice
to see you. Have you come to pray with me upon this Comet alter? Your soul is in
definite need of saving. Upon saving, you could ride the comet light fantastic
with my children and me. Enlightened we shall be and carefree lost inhabitants
to this filthy world of filthy beings. I can understand why so many people
stagnate in their modern castles. Come out of the cold son. Wear your purple
sweats and sneakers with me child. Worship at this alter. Drink my drink. Eat my
consumables. Pray to mighty Comet that we will ride COME JUDGEMENT DAY!"
I ran out the door. I did not want to pray at the cheapy cardboard and oil paint
comet alter!
Posted by RAD at 04:21 PM | Comments (2)
School of Rock DVD review
People listen closely. Rent or buy School of Rock (Widescreen Edition) (2003).
Just do it. You deserve to give yourself a present. Jack Black, who was recently
cast as Carl “adventurer filmmaker” Denham in Peter “Lord of the Ring” Jackson's
remake of King Kong, shines in this movie. Everyone will enjoy this film.
Black’s passion for rock music is clearly evident throughout. It’s hilarious.
This is the perfect role for Black, as it was written for him.
I usually find kids in movies irritating, but the kids in this movie are pretty
cool and are not British. I dislike British kids. It must be their voices.
British kids and their voices are like fingernails on a chalkboard. It drives me
insane.
The DVD special features are not the best, but Black’s MTV diary is funny, and
the commentary track by Black and director Richard Linklater provides insightful
glimpses into the making of the film.
While talking about Black, one cannot neglect to mention Tenacious D. I am a
colossal fan of Tenacious D. Kyle Gass and Jack Black are KG and JB … and they
equal Tenacious D. While a rock comedy album, it's a must for me to say that
they are really good. Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, Redd Kross's Steve McDonald and
Page McConnell of Phish lend a hand in The D’s album. Buy that as well.
This is RD saying, “rock on.”

SCHOOL OF ROCK DVD Features:
Commentary by actor Jack Black and director Richard Linklater
Commentary by the kids from the film
"Lessons Learned"
Jack Black's pitch to Led Zeppelin
Music video
MTV's diary of Jack Black
Kids' Video Diary from the Toronto Film Festival
Dewey Finn's History of Rock Interactive Feature
Trailers
Weblinks
Widescreen anamorphic format
Posted by RAD at 07:33 AM | Comments (3)
March 30, 2004
Garbage Pail Kids
I used to collect Garbage Pail Kids. The new 2nd Series (16th Series) is out
now. I treked long and far to the Circle K to get Garbage Pail Kids. I tricked
Joey K. into buying me boxes and doing backflips for GPK. I was a ruthless GPK
collector.
I went against the collectors code and stuck the stickers on things (making sure
they were doubles of course). It's great they are back. I should pick up a pack.
The Garbage Pail Kid Archive is pretty neat as is The Official Topps Garbage
Pail Kids Website.
MY CUSTOM GPK

Posted by RAD at 03:52 PM | Comments (5)
Realm of puppetry is magical and diverse
Thank you local liquor store:
Your convenient delivery makes my busy schedule well worth it. Now I can work 12
to 17 hour days and still receive my spirits in a timely fashion. Nothing makes
me happier in life than returning home to a waiting 4 pack of Guinness stout and
large bottle of Jagermeister packed neatly in an ice-filled red cooler.
If I plan ahead during football season, I can even get a hefty delivery order by
Sunday. I find it necessary to consume alcohol on the Sunday. This holy day is
prime for football and prayer. It wouldn't be a football Sunday without beers
and wine coolers and chips and queso and Jesus.
Thanks again. When I visit your store, your staff is excellent. They are always
pleasant and helpful in not laughing at my quaking jones for the blessed liquor.
They lead me to shelves of drinkable pleasure. They are good people. They stop
me from shaking when I succumb to that alcohol craving.
Excelsior!
A loyal customer,
Denver, Colorado
Posted by RAD at 09:12 AM | Comments (1)
March 29, 2004
Yukon Cornelious

Uh HUH! Yukon Cornelious, the affable miner, ice-pick licking, master of his
domain. He is a symbol all in the world can relate too. Yukon was seen in Rankin
& Bass’ Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer classic holiday television show from the
1960's.
I remember it well. Festering in front of the television as a youth, I gazed
upon the loud-mouthed gob of Master Cornelious each December. I subsequently
named my favorite blankie Yukon Cornelious and my life was changed ever since
that day.
Ol' Yukon sure knew his stuff. In fact, all of the disturbing characters in that
show made me quake with their Claymation oddness. Or was it stop-motion
animation? BAH! I don’t know! All I do know is that I invited Yukon to my
birthday party only to be reminded by Mommie Dearest that he was but a specter;
a figurine is someone’s private collection.
Even though he let me down on my birthday, I swore to dress like and live like
Yukon.
I licked ice picks and frolicked in the snow. I searched for that Abominable
Snowmonster each Colorado snowstorm. I sure did want to lure it to an icy death!
After school, I would skip home while acting like hefty Yukon himself! My
boyhood dreams were shattered at all turns. His icon floats up to me to this
day.
Please friends, remember poor Yukon Cornelious. REMEMBER HIM!
Posted by RAD at 09:29 PM | Comments (1)
South Park Russ
If I were a South Park character:

Posted by RAD at 04:01 PM | Comments (2)
Reality TV
“Mammy’s little baby love hoagies, hoagies. Mammy’s little baby am keen on
subs,” I sang to myself preparing my dinner for a night of watching videotaped
copies of all things REALITY TELEVISION!
I usually keep my distance from ancient VHS technology, praising the virtues of
DVD, but I am mysteriously pulled to the crapola of Reality Television by
watching everyday people shamed nationally while eating rhinoceros feces on a
spinning wheel of death nine stories in the air. I must record them all!
There are so many shows that I have 4 friends using two VCRs apiece, recording
several a night.
But before I foxhole down to watch SDE6 (Star Dates: Episode 6) with Gary
Coleman, who played endearing Arnold Jackson on Diff’rent Strokes in the 1980’s,
I must make some subs! It’s a ritual. Sometimes I have a hankering for a simple
sausage and pepper hoagie. Other times a dried husk Italian roll is all I eat.
It doesn’t matter, for my hunger cannot be sated until I see the reality TV.
Reality television is like a drug. I spend my waking hours watching them. As I
fester down on my leather couch with hoagie in hand, I am horrified as
34-year-old Coleman’s date actually carries the 4’8", 95-pound man into a
restaurant! This is great television! Not since Trista slid down Ryan’s
firefighter pole in TBE4 (The Bachelorette: Episode 4) was I so pleased by
quality television programming.
Reality Television is crap. I really dislike it. I shake my head in shame for
those of you who watch it. You know who you are.
Watch the History Channel or Discovery Science or NASA TV. Have a hoagie!
Posted by RAD at 03:40 PM | Comments (0)
Fun With Webcam 1


Posted by RAD at 03:30 PM | Comments (4)
March 28, 2004
DO THE CHOCOLATE
The newest rage to hit the world is called THE CHOCOLATE. It's a universal sign
of confidence and peace. It's an obscure sign of happiness and self-worth.
Do it. Your mission. Go on. Do the Chocolate!
I await your photos in my email box. Thank you.
Posted by RAD at 10:00 PM | Comments (0)
Lowell the Little Green Alien

I attended a Hawaiian birthday party for Bradley, a Droog. We sported our
Hawaiian best and a good time was had by all. Everybody loves Lowell the Little
Green Alien.
Posted by RAD at 09:50 PM | Comments (0)
Droogs, The
It all started June 9, 1990. The ceremonies and meanings behind the Droogs have
subtly changed over the years. The Droog name comes from the film A Clockwork
Orange. The Droogs are a group of friends (my friends) who have rode together
for a long time. In my case, 14 years or so. There are 17 Droogs and many
assorted ions and Droog signifigant others.

A majority of the Droogs attended Rangeview High School and met in the high
school Theatre Department.

According to Droog Lore, to become a Droog, the common group has to like and
accept the potential “applicant.” Then there is the pomp and circumstance. The
ceremony to become a Droog involves making biscuits and gravy from scratch,
eating the cerimonial sugar cane and then participating in a large circle
“sing-a-long” in the style of Glory’s “Oh My Lord” testimonies. It is during the
ceremony where the Droogs clap and relate the tales of “how they were born”
through testimony. Each Droog is given a name and is parlay to inside news and
happenings within the group. The ceremonies can get pretty rowdy and mostly take
place on the streets in the late night to early morning.

I am fortunate to have a mongo group of friends. It's really rare nowadays.

THE BEGINNINGS:
MELT had a Packard Bell 286 computer in his basement equipped with a 2400-baud
modem. MELT and I along with others first discussed making a Bulletin Board
System (BBS) on August 29, 1990. It was to be very primitive by today’s
standards. This was before the internet or World Wide Web and was basically a
group of computers that could be accessed via dial-up over a telephone line.
BBS’ were mainly used for pirating software, getting porn, playing and obtaining
games, information and message boards. We embarked into this freakish community
on November 8, 1990 with the debut of our BBS Vision of Anarchy or VøA. “Lead by
the motto: ‘If there is a rule, we will break it,’ VoA was online.” (Forlorn.
1990.)
Original VOA Ad:
A BBS four years in the making. Over 120 games on file!!! Support your views and
opinions.
Join us for a trip of a lifetime…
VISION OF ANARCHY
2400 baud/24 hours a day/7 days a week/365 days a year!!!
Coming soon to phone lines near you!!!
November 8, 1990
Now including message board areas:
“Bombs and explosives”
&
“Graffiti Hall of Fame
File areas never before thought of by humans.
IF THERE IS A RULE, WE WILL BREAK IT!!!
Bring your food raw, we will cook it for you… (1990)
In hindsight, we were suppliers of detailed instructions on how to make bombs
among other things. Needless to say, a lot of people we knew at school had
computers with modems and participated on our Board. We geeks united to form the
Droogs. It grew from there.

Posted by RAD at 08:58 PM | Comments (2)
March 27, 2004
A Hawaiian Party?

The Jurjuna show was excellent last night. I am going to a Hawaiian party
tonight. Lowell the Little Green Alien will be there. Look for photos on Sunday!

Posted by RAD at 05:55 PM | Comments (0)
March 26, 2004
Jurjuna -- a band
Some of my friends are in a band called Jurjuna. Tonight is their debut show at
the Mercury Café at 2199 California Street, Denver, CO 80205. It's contemporary
Mid-Eastern fusion music.
They play music from all over the belly dance spectrum and some songs that
haven't been heard in this medium. Tonight they are accompanied by the dancer
Rafi'ah. I'm heading out to see them now.

Posted by RAD at 05:59 PM | Comments (0)
FAFF SOIL THEMSELVES
When you’re walking in the filth that has was once the world. When them dirties
are a creepin’ at the door of your bomb shelter. When you’re brandishing your
double-barreled shotgun to ward off your frenzied neighbors as they try to
comendier your stockpiles of food stuffs and water. When your standing on a
hilltop, tears streaming down your chub face…you’ll know what to do.
And finally, for Friday, the weekly Feces Theme concludes!
--
RELEASE: 01-1123-0922
FAFF MEMBERS SOIL THEMSELVES AT FASHION SHOW
PROVO, UT – 26 March 2004 -- Events at a downtown FAFF fashion show/rally
quickly turned horrific this morning as each participating member of the show
was stricken by spontaneous cases of "the shits." FAFF, Fighting Against the
Fiendish Fiends, is a group formed by Provo resident Tina Smyth to combat
Russell A. Dale and his RAD 2020 ways. Dale has been in hiding until very
recently due to threats made by FAFF.
Things turned foul shortly after 9am during the highly anticipated shoe
presentation. There was a thunderous splashing noise behind the scenes and on
stage, when each member of the cast and crew succumbed to the mysterious fecal
effects.
"It was horrible! There were beautiful women parading around the catwalks, doing
their dainty turns when all of a sudden the shit started flying everywhere!
Literally!" said fashion photographer Toby Griffin.
Another witness stated, "The shoe portion of the show was fine until diarrhea
splattered around the place!"
Smyth, who was recently released from jail for violating noise ordnances in
downtown Provo, was driven to tears as everyone involved with the fashion
show/rally was stricken with the hasty bowel movements, "There was no time to
get to the portable toilets," Smyth cried, "Our fashions are ruined and we are
shamed and disgraced. Lordy forgive us for creating a public stench most foul!"
Seven people were injured in the ensuing chaos. Some of the crowd were trampled
as the 46 scattered upon seeing the horrible sights and smelling the grotesque
smells. Two models slipped in their own excrement and had to be taken to the
hospital.
Dale, who had been in hiding due to public FAFF threats against him and his
organization, was overjoyed when he heard the news of the unfortunate incident.
Dale believes that FAFF and its agents were responsible for beating his manager
Bo Weenis outside of the Broadway musical Hairspray a little over a week ago.
"FAFF has threatened me publicly for many wrong-doings that I am unaware of,”
said Dale, “I was hidden away from their deception but am now free to move about
knowing these ladies have shown the world their true filthy undies. Public
displays of humiliation are good for the soul. I praise their God for granting
them the nimbus light!"
A RAD 2020 spokesperson stated anonymously, "We's tink FAFF deserved to shit
themselves. At PAPPY LAND, we all am filled with rancorous laughter at this
news."
The cause of the incident is unknown as of this writing.
###

Posted by RAD at 10:50 AM | Comments (2)
Digital Clock
A cool online digital clock.
Posted by RAD at 07:10 AM | Comments (1)
March 25, 2004
One Sentence
This entry is just one sentence long.
Posted by RAD at 06:03 PM | Comments (2)
Vision of hern Russell

THE VISION
I came to the burdensome realization that the totality of the radhole experience
is a monumental one. It is a chance to get truths exposed and opportunity to try
to steer the world to global peace. It will be a difficult mission.
Just thinking about the sweeping task drives the insanity into my mind.
Sometimes I wish to go completely "mental," just like the cartoonish Ed Grimley
(played by Martin Short), a man whose every movement is a symphonic convulsion,
every word an exhaustive gasp and every rudimentary thought is treated like
genius. When a youth, I praised the nerdy Ed and went painstakingly out of my
way to watch "The Completely Mental Misadventures of Ed Grimley" Saturday
morning cartoon. A most excellent television show, I must say....
Inspired by misadventures of all sorts, I once wrote a short story called "The
Hardy Misadventures of Rex Kaufer: The Battery Man." He changed dead batteries
of all sorts, no matter how dangerous the task. His work ethic was effective.
Even as he was being chased by hungry sewer dwellers, he still managed to
replace the batteries on roadside signs. Rex Kaufer is the symbol of purest
Americana. Rex is peace. Rex is a good old boy. Rex told it raw and absolute.
Another hero pulled off of the violent screens of television would be wily
Willis Drummond of "Diff'rent Strokes" fame. How I longed to be involved in
those fun-loving "What you talkin' about Willis?" misadventures. Yes, the sort
of misadventures involving a rich Manhattan family who adopt the children of
their late African American maid.
While misadventures are not the goal of radhole, there will certainly be
misadventures and mischances afoot. I am currently endeavoring on a petition
revival of the classic 1985 "Misfits of Science" television show. The list now
has 27 names and keeps getting bigger and bigger as each day passes. My dream
will one day be realized...
I love speaking for the common man. Not just through television outlets, but all
things media. I'm hot for the mass communicate! Be it the world wide web, print,
radio, television, movies or live theatre/improv, it's the blessed communicative
tools that allows us to...well...communicate. It's not just for breakfast
anymore.
I would like to see uncensored news or sports broadcasts. If a particularly
burly linebacker smashes the pathetic quarterback into the turf, severing his
spine and compound fracturing his 30 million dollar throwing arm, the
broadcasters should have the liberty to explain the reality of the situation by
speaking the truth to the loyal listeners by saying blurting out the unrefined
"That's pretty fucked up." I am sure such phrasing will become common parlance.
It’s true. It is pretty fucked up that I watched this career-ending injury on
live TV. But it happened. We saw it. It is reality.
The filthy Federal Communications Commission has as of November 2003 decided
that the most common, rough and ready, four-letter word for hot sex can be said
television. With a catch though, if it is used “properly.”
Their reasoning is that offensive language used as an adjective or verbal abuse
is different than using it as a description of sexual origin. Hooray! You can
say fucking on TV as long as you’re talking about fucking! It’s a step in the
right direction, but I don’t think we’ll be hearing it anytime soon.
One day. Don’t be shocked and chagrinned when it happens.
Continuing the “fecal matter” theme of the week, imagine a world where baby
diaper commercials show a filthy baby, covered in his or her own feces, sitting
in front of music television with computer-generated mouth saying in a wee
elfish voice "I've shit myself. Mommy should have bought a better diaper. BUY
Pampies to avoid anymore instances of my filth all over your entertainment
center!" Baby giggle. Fade to black. Diarrhea sound. Baby Giggle.
So right. So fucking right.
DUSKINESS ROAD
The time is now to mass communicate my friends.
The Janet Jackson Super Bowl breast debacle has tarnished the media and set back
the entertainment and news media back a step or two.
In my never-ending quest to search for unusual aspects of all things entertainy,
I look to various valued sources within my knowledge reach. These tools are
helpful. Books, video, DVD, CD-ROM, theatre, Internet, television, film,
microfiche/film, newspapers, stone tablets, rubbings, etchings, smoke signals,
astronomical signs and magazines all provide the blessed information. Sorting
through these tangible sources, these light and reflections, is of great concern
to me.
One must be careful however, because in this world, there are always demons out
there to mislead you and take you down the darkened path. One rarely knows when
he or she has stumbled upon these non-truths. This darkened path, which I refer
to as "duskiness road," is nothing but an arena for the foolish, frightened and
misinformed dolts of this planet Earth. Ones who participate in all things
misinformed should be taken out into the cornfields and left to the buzzards. I
am hot for the truth. Like the old X-Files saying, "The truth is out there," I
am dedicating my life to getting the true news, weather, sports and
entertainment out to the people. Uncensored. Who would be willing to venture out
on such a risky business? Perhaps you.
Freedom of speech has been a joy during my brief 28 years here in America. But
there are just some things one cannot get. The current state of network
television is so robotic and flavored for the child-brained wispy people, the
essence of the information is diffused so much that it is hardly the same story
anymore. When the networks air Hollywood motion pictures, the movies are pan and
scan, edited and cheaply dubbed with voice-over talent from Ms. Tyrell's 8th
grade special education debate class. I am sure the director is cursing having
his or her name associated with the "love conquers all" version of their film.
Networks are shady and afraid to do anything that might offend the government
that they keep their mouths shut when it comes to the hard issues. It is
sickening.
Occasionally there is a glimmer of hope as the major television networks air
sensitive material with hefty disclaimers. Schindler's List and the 9/11
documentary are what first come to mind. Is it the horror of foul language and
violence that make for the censorship? Does it go against traditional family
values? We've come a long way from Lassie and Leave it to Beaver, but we've
still got far to go. Perhaps they are gearing up the public for Disclosure, the
release of the ultimate truths such as the facts about UFO’s, extraterrestrial
intelligence, Mars cities, black technology and classified advanced energy and
propulsion systems.
I praise the very thought of the disclaimer. If one might be offended by what
they are about to see or hear, then it is good for them to know. They can turn
it off and continue to roll around naked in their caches of Brent Spiner
pictures, collector A-Team, Trading Spaces and Survivor plates.
In Europe, tits and ass are everywhere on the television and in everyday life,
beamed straight into the home for Heike and her family Sammualson to enjoy over
dinner.
It's gems like pay television that save us. Without these cable networks, we'd
all be forced to gaze upon the free news and information that is quazi-candy
coated and advertisement filled. In essence, we have to pay to have our senses
brutalized. That's ok and all, but for those who cannot afford the luxury of HBO
or Showtime, why not tune to PBS on a Sunday night for pure, unedited and raw
9/11 footage or the horrors on the front lines of the war over seas?
The world is becoming more and more shady, and with the media being in your
face, it should not have to be censored to help the squeamish. Network
executives are so worried they are going to offend John and Jane Q. Public
because of their programming that they fail to see the real money flowing down
the drain. In true entertainment greed, they should be heralding the coming of
unedited information. I'm talking about all forms of mass communicate.
I would love to one day, turn on the television to find something so shocking,
that it is a true test of human skill just to have gotten the piece produced,
filmed and edited.
“But that filth shouldn't be on the television!” some would say. What about the
children!? We cannot have that dirt in our homes! Stop that gaudy violence from
ah creepin' at my ears! I cannot believe they showed a poorly lit, shadowy
outline of a naked woman's bust on NYPD Blue last night! I am glad they removed
the scene in ER where they were examining an elderly woman’s breast! I want a
watered down program teaching me wholesomeness and nothing about the real world.
I want to live in my succubus cocoon with my TV Guide and no knowledge of
current events. I want to live! I want to be misinformed! I just want the Facts
of Life to return to television!
As for the children, I would much rather explain to my kids myself what they saw
then have them learn the ways of the world at school from their big fore-headed
friends. My kids shouldn’t even be watching television anyways, unless my
significant and I deem it appropriate.
Come on friends, I think we all would like to see Angela Lansbury's steamy sex
scene in the movie of the week...right after the series finale of Friends! Her
olden body writhing in pleasure as Antonio Banderas simultaneously logs onto his
computer to track down the bloody mafia goon that killed his wife and triplet
daughters...Now that's TV! It would be tastefully done of course.
We would definitely need a disclaimer though. Please have a disclaimer. Pay
attention to the disclaimer. Stay out of my way stoopy!
Posted by RAD at 04:55 PM | Comments (4)
The Drifter v1
The morning sunshine reflected off of the high-rise buildings in downtown
Denver, the capital of Colorado, USA. The dusty, trashed filled side streets
were beginning to come to life, for it was a Monday and another bustling workday
was underway. It was a beautiful fall morning and the air was brisk, but not yet
too cold. There was a hint of winter in the air however. It won’t be long before
the first snow of the season. Around the state, the leaves on the trees started
their turn from the lush spring and summer green to fall yellow, red and brown.

People dressed in business attire filtered out into the streets. They head for
their place of industry to work the daily grind. It’s a daily routine for most,
working hard to pay the bills and live a decent life. Some carry fresh coffee or
a doughnut or two while others read the newspaper as they walk or talk on their
cellular phones to unknown phantoms. Street vendors selling everything from
postcards to freshly brewed coffee to tacos call out their wares to the
passerby’s. Business was good. People were happy.

The vigorous breeze stirred up the refuse behind random businesses, restaurants
and breweries; carrying with it the sounds of the city. Behind a neighborhood
restaurant, beside two rear dumpsters, two shabbily dressed people lie amidst
the newspapers and cardboard boxes. They are obvious vagrants, choosing to sleep
in the streets than get a stable job. Do they not have any viable means to enjoy
a good life? It is by choice that these street urchins live in such conditions.
Or is it? The alley was littered with cigarette butts, dead leaves, newspapers,
general filth and dander.
Carried by the fall wind, the echo of city life reverberated down this
particular back alley causing the sleeping vagrants to stir. Russ woke up and
wearily wiped the sleep from his eyes, his gloved hands feeling the chill
morning. It was rough sleeping on the bitter pavement; his breath misting from
his mouth. Wearing overly soiled blue jeans with grime and holes, a pair of long
underwear, a ratty sweatshirt, holey gloves, old black work boots and an even
more tattered trench coat, he sat up and leaned against the grease storage
dumpster. He had seen the restaurant workers dumping the fat, oils and unused
meats into this container last night as he spied from around the corner.
Russ, a chubby man with brown eyes, black mustache, goatee and glasses, was
slightly hung-over this morning. It was right after the restaurant closed when
Russ and new pal Mickey drunkenly stumbled to their final sleeping spot behind
the building. It reeked back there, the congealed grease festering in the
container, waiting for people to take it away to the rendering plants. ‘Damn
it’s chilly this morning,’ he thought to himself as he looked over at his
sleeping companion.

“Thanks for sharing your go-juice with me last night Mickey,” he said aloud
patting his still sleeping new friend on the shoulder, “You’re a good associate.
It kept me warm.”
Mickey rolled over and grunted, still obviously wanting to sleep a little
longer. Monday is when Waste Management comes to empty the dumpsters, but by
that time Russ would be long gone. Russ looked around the alley and then grabbed
the brown paper bag-covered bottle at his side. He took a huge swig, gulping
heartily as the liquor spilled down his front. Russ smiled and grimaced aloud,
“Go juice!”
With still no awakening from Mickey, Russ addressed him nonetheless, “I must
move on now my friend. This alley shall be my home no more. I am a traveler you
see, like I said yester night in my drunken state. I will think on you often my
sleeping and bearded friend. Be well.” Another murmur from Mickey and Russ
stood, brushed the dirt from his disturbingly filthy clothes and exited onto the
street. He sucked in a huge lung-full of air and sighed. It was great being
alive!

Russ observed people. These people were working hard to survive. They were
moving about their daily lives. Silently Russ made his way through the streets,
smiling to the passerby’s in his swagger strut. Most looked on him with disgust
and pity. A few returned his kind gestures, but nearly all avoided eye contact.
The homeless were treated okay in this town. Russ had never begged for money,
for his pride stopped him on all occasions. The soup kitchens would always
provide him with a hot meal if he needed it. It was the third day of his
sleeping on the streets and by golly he looked the part. He knew he smelled
awful; a strange mixture of booze, body odor and urine. Three days of this and
he was getting a bit edgy. It seemed like fun at first, but he longed for his
bed and a hot shower.

He had met a bunch of the local homeless population early on in his experiment.
He was even briefly involved in a stingy “turf war” in which these people fight
for the finest alleys or viaducts in which to sleep. It was almost winter and
the shelters would fill up fast, so competition was fierce on the streets. After
getting punched in the belly by a local gang of homeless Loco’s, the fun began
slipping away. Who knew such events occurred in the night?

Russ made his was down a few blocks and crossed the traffic congested street. He
headed slowly toward a black Jeep Grand Cherokee, the newest model. Fishing in
his pockets for keys, he procured them and pressed the button on the alarm
system, the deactivating chirp providing him with a sense of comfort. ‘Warmth,’
he said to himself.

Posted by RAD at 10:32 AM | Comments (0)
March 24, 2004
The Breakfast Order
WAITRESS
What can I get for you today?
RUSS
Neat menu. I like the spacey theme.
In my divine and impish ways, I know for a fact that people cannot “move the
planets” to wield their will. Contrary to what so many believe, those commands
are limited to the dream-state (and them trance world powers are restricted to
slight tricks of shabby levitation and the occasional horrifying banshee scream
akin to Master Obi-Wan Kenobi’s in Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope).
I, however, in my most promising, hungering and mastermind wisdom, do not need
the dream-state to huff a demented phantom shriek or budge the very alignment of
the solar system yielding improved growing seasons on Earth while at the same
time decimating the briny microbial life below the ice of Jupiter’s moon Europa.

My minions are able to alter the very fabric of the space-time itself, erasing
feeble enemies from existence and causing paradoxes the likes of which the
universe itself has only experience through me! I need a wholesome breakfast.
These bogarts manipulate the continuum for personal gain. They’ve made
themselves known to me. They’ve offered me a piece. Believe me my waitress
friend, there will be fresh bounty for all!
I’ll have one cup of dark black coffee, two eggs scrambled, two slices of crispy
bacon and two biscuit halves slathered in white sausage gravy please.
WAITRESS
You have minions?
RUSS
Yes. Get the order in palie; I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.

Posted by RAD at 07:07 PM | Comments (0)
normsquatch on tha cornah
I have known normsquatch for 13 years.

Posted by RAD at 04:26 PM | Comments (3)
Voodoo Ways Letter Reply
Dear Mr. Zinickeles:
I write to you through covert channels under the strictest code of secrecy. I
received your letter offering your services using the Voodoo Ways. I was
intrigued by the proposal and would like to take you up on it.
As you may or may not know, I have been recently threatened by a band of
religious fanatics. This devout hate smear group is known as FAFF or Fighting
Against the Fiendish Fiends. I have reason to believe that they accosted and
severely beat my campaign manager and trusted advisor, putting him in a coma.
The authorities have exhausted all of their leads in the investigation, so I am
forced to act in my own vigilante way.
I was particularly attracted to you using your "shadowy, olden knack for curse "
and making them "loose control of their bowels, having them spill out their
wastes in public, ruining their clothes." The reason this brings so much joy to
me is that this finicky hate group are a horde of fashion mindful women. The
very thought of them trickling their pasty fecal matter in full public view
would make me so very, very happy.
This is the only letter you will receive from me, for all other correspondence
will be with normsquatch, my personal "go-to" guy. He will be getting in contact
with you very soon with all of the details including a robust check to cover any
costs you incur. I look forward to the press coverage of what I am preliminarily
calling "FAFF POOPIE FEST 2004."
I shouldn't have to articulate that you never received this letter nor have any
knowledge of me seeking revenge against these attackers. My lust for vengeance
must be kept firmly hush-hush. Thank you again for your offer. Have a nice day.
Sincerely Yours,
Russell A. Dale
Posted by RAD at 12:14 PM | Comments (4)
March 23, 2004
FAFF AMBUSH WEENIS
RELEASE: 02-1111-2497
BO WEENIS AMBUSHED WHILE ATTENDING HAIRSPRAY
NEW YORK, NY – 23 March 2004 – Bo Weenis, the manager and closest advisor of RAD
2020 famed Russell A. Dale, was ambushed and severely beaten, allegedly by murky
agents of the Fighting Against the Fiendish Fiends FAFF hate smear group. Weenis
was standing outside of the Neil Simon Theatre on West 52nd Street and trying to
score Hairspray tickets when the attack occurred.
Witnesses on the scene stated that Weenis was pushed over by two women who then
placed a plastic bag around his head and tried to strangle him with wire. They
kicked at his chest and groin areas with their high-heeled shoes, causing
massive puncture wounds. When a crowd gathered, they fled the scene and are
still at-large.
Underground fashion designer Lucinda Renolds was standing on the street during
the attack. Renolds said, “They came out of the shadows and pushed this poor
fellow and just beat on him. I noticed that they were dressed in the latest
summer 2002 fashions. I actually thought they were filming a scene from the
rumored Sex and the City movie! It's all in the shoes you know? Toss the
Birkenstocks and opt for Manglo Blahnik sky-high mules, sandals and pumps (the
more expensive, the better). I also design clothes so remember my face and
name.”
Dale commented on the attack while in Pratt Kansas, “My heart goes out to the
family Weenis. I am sickened that such an event could occur outside a live
theatre event. I hope these attackers are found and brought to justice. I would
not want to avenge my friend Weenis. I have a pretty good idea who planned the
attack and will not tolerate such blatant misdeeds against any of my staff or
supporters. If the law cannot find them, I will be forced to.”
A RAD 2020 spokesperson stated of the incident, “We knows it was FAFF. Theys
threaten Russ Dale recently. We’s gonna find ‘em and stop ‘em. Ain’t notha gonna
stop us from ah findin’ these bitches. Let hope be dem guide!”
Weenis, who’s favorite actor is Harvy Fierstein (Edna Turnblad in the production
of Hairspray), is currently in critical condition with multiple puncture wounds
to his chest and groin area. He is being treated at an undisclosed location.
###

Posted by RAD at 05:31 PM | Comments (0)
Voodoo Ways Letter
Dear Russ:
I am a practitioner of the Voodoo Ways. My dark art may have some sort of use in
your life. I am writing to offer my services.
I know that you have many enemies Mr. Dale, and it is in your best interest to
allow me to conjure up some sort of magic charm and hocus pocus to halt them. I
would love to hex and vex anyone you desire. Just give the word and I shall
carry out my best wizardry. You will not be chagrined once you discover my
shadowy, olden knack for curse and sublime. I can control all entities large and
small with little or no effort.
I can be your peer of the realm. I could rub viscous liquids on dollies
representing your enemies. I possibly will cause their bodies to spasm
bafflingly. They will be unable to stop their form from shuddering. I may
perhaps cause them to loose control of their bowels, having them spill out their
wastes in public, ruining their clothes. Think of the embarrassment they would
suffer while you take a seat and get pleasure from the show.
Please consider my offer and get back to me.
I am also interested in learning more about your mind force powers. How exactly
does it work?
--K. Zinickeles, kecktor666@#######.com, residence unknown

Posted by RAD at 05:15 PM | Comments (0)
WHY MARS?
Why not?

Posted by RAD at 06:20 AM | Comments (0)
March 22, 2004
FILTHY: the RACCOON
The Dale family had scores of pets over the years, and none was more frightening
and nasty than our cat Raccoon. It wasn’t a real Raccoon, but a mangy cat.
To this day, the very mention of filthy Raccoon strikes disgust and anger among
all who were touched by this thinly, wisp of a sickly cat. For as long as I can
remember, grubby Raccoon had always been synonymous with excrement. A stray that
lived under the grandparent Bailey’s trailer in Pueblo, Colorado, grimy Raccoon
subsisted on table scraps and sewer rats. She made the trek to Denver with the
family. From that day on, Raccoon’s shit would be a staple in our home while I
grew up.
We designated one corner of the basement to Raccoon’s toilet. The entire room
was covered in newspaper. Raccoon would shit everywhere around the house BUT the
litter box, which would remain immaculate in the corner. She never had a normal,
solid BM. Her’s was always liquid diarrhea everywhere! Raccoon poopie on the
bread-box, feces on the living room walls, crap on the couches, diarrhea in the
doorway and excrement in the DVD!
Friends and family hated that cat, except for Mommie Dearest. Mom treated the
skittish nimbus feline like royalty. Raccoon lived a hated trouble-free
existence and even soiled my car.
She somehow got locked in my car one day, by crawling in a window or the
sunroof. After partying for the night, I returned home and secured my car, not
knowing that Raccoon was inside. The next day was 95 degrees and hot. It was 2
in the afternoon when I decided to run some errands. When I opened the door to
my car, I noticed diarrhea all over the seats. There was filth on the dashboard,
scat on the steering wheel and shit in the back. There were even claw streaks in
poopie on the windows where it was obvious grubby Raccoon frantically tried to
get out.
It was one of the most horrific things I have ever seen. The temperature was so
hot in the car that some waste had evaporated and soaked into the seat pads.
Sure enough, spiteful Raccoon lay exhausted and dehydrated in the hatchback. She
visibly felt my contempt brewing and mustered up enough energy to scurry out of
my car and into the bushes.
I cleaned up my car and fashioned trash bag seat covers. I remember picking up
normsquatch that day. The very mention of fecal matter disgusts Norm. It
literally makes him vomit. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he was
sitting in my car noticing the stench. He squirmed. It was hilarious.
Grimy Raccoon lived a long and fruitful life. After her mysterious passing, we
rallied the funds to have her sparse body stuffed, forever hunched in both pain
and ecstasy. Shitting for all eternity.
Posted by RAD at 08:51 PM | Comments (10)
A pleading letter to the NBA
It didn't work. I guess I will have to spit on baseketball.
--
Dear NBA:

At 28 years of age, both my colleague and I have never really been interested in
basketball.

For years, I have watched others celebrate with honor my home team, their faces
filled with fervor and mongo expressions of wide-ranging enthusiasm. A Denver
native, I have always longed for those days and have never participated in them.

In these days of war and want, the great financial institution which is my life
is unable to afford the monetary requirement for two tickets to the Detroit
Pistons vs. Denver Nuggets home basketball game at Pepsi Center on Saturday
March 6, 2004 at 7pm MST.

Would it be possible for the NBA to arrange 2 courtesy tickets to be picked up
at the box office? My associate and I would be greatly appreciative. Perhaps the
game will become the critical mass for us to emerge as great fans. Thank you for
your time.

Sincerely,

Russell A. Dale
Denver, Colorado USA
flight0001@hotmail.com

From : NBA Letters
Sent : Tuesday, March 2, 2004 7:05 AM
To : flight0001@hotmail.com
Subject : Re: letters
We are responding to your recent e-mail to the National Basketball Association.
If you are seeking either a monetary or merchandise donation, please fax a
description of the event on your organization's letterhead to 212-407-7919.
Thank you for your interest in the NBA,
B. W. Barnett
Fan Relations
National Basketball Association

Posted by RAD at 10:16 AM | Comments (4)
Manischewitz!
The word of the day is Manischewitz! Being fascinated by all things spacey,
Apollo 17 is my favorite lunar mission. During Apollo 17, Commander Gene Cernan
used "Manischewitz" as an exclamation and a substitute for swearing. I
personally think he should have said "shit" instead. At 117:58:43 during EVA 1
Rover loading, it would have made "Shit, look at that go! Did you see that?" a
whole lot flashier. The B. Manischewitz Company was a major American producer of
kosher foods. During the 1950's and into the 60's, they advertised their wines
with the phrase "Man, oh, Manischewitz. What a wine."

Apollo 17
Apollo 17 (CSM America and LM Challenger)
Saturn V
December 07-19, 1972
Eugene A. Cernan
Ronald E. Evans
Harrison H. "Jack" Schmitt
12 days, 13 hours, 52 minutes
Last lunar landing mission.
Taurus-Littrow, the landing site, was a valley on the edge of the Sea of
Serenity.
Landing Coordinates: 20.18809 degrees North, 30.77475 degrees East
(Source: National Space Science Data Center)
3 EVAs of 22 hours, 04 minutes. First scientist-astronaut to land on Moon,
Schmitt. Sixth automated research station set up. LRV traverse total 30.5 km.
110.4 kg (243 lbs) of material gathered. Lunar surface stay-time, 75 hours.
(CSM) in lunar orbit 148 hours. Evans performed trans-Earth EVA lasting 01 hour
06 minutes.
Learn more here.

Posted by RAD at 05:42 AM | Comments (0)
March 21, 2004
I hated youth sports
My older brother was always into sports. He was a track star and football
receiver. He's 5 years older than me. I hated playing sports. I was clumsy.
Little League football was a blur.
I played Parks and Recreation basketball for five years and scored 4 baskets in
my entire career. I was awesome at defense and intimidated the smaller children
by knocking them over if they got in my way. I fouled out every game, but beat
my opponents into SUBMISSION!
There was one basketball shining moment. Eric was the coach of my team one year.
We were playing a team that had a father (coach) son (player) team. The son was
stepping on our player’s knees when they were knocked down. The ref said nothing
and the crowd was upset. There were 2 players on the bench in tears. Eric called
a time out and told me to guard the son and when the time was right, take him
out. This task I carried out to perfection. The game resumed and when the ref
wasn't looking I picked up the kid and body slammed him on the court. The ref
was clueless and their coach was hysterical screaming, “This isn’t football!”
Another time out and Eric took me out of the game a hero!!
I was shamed my 8th grade year in wrestling. I hated the uniform (slinglet or
whatever). My family was poor and I couldn't afford wrestling shoes. Everyone on
the team had them ... except me. I had on-sale ProWings, Payless shoes cheapy
ones. Everyone laughed at me. I was a nerd ... and in every sport, my teammates
picked on me.

Wrestling is where I found some glory. Many songs and stories have been told
about my magnificent battles on the mat, dressed in my sky blue Columbia Middle
School slinglet. I won 3rd place in the entire city of Aurora that year…by
default. There were only three guys in my weight division and they were far
superior to me. They ended up rolling around for first and second places while I
wrestled no one and got third. I never won a match and placed 1st four times by
automatic default win. Those were the days…
I played football FROSH and SOPH high school years. I was bad though and really
didn't try in practice. I never memorized a playbook and just went out there to
take my childhood nerd rages out on the players. Maybe that is why I hardly
played. I was on the Z Team. WORSE THAN WATERBOY! I lead the water boys to the
water.
When our team was dominating, I got to play the last few minutes of the game. I
did recover a fumble in the end zone once ... scoring a touchdown. How I miss my
glory days on the gridiron! We won 72 to 3.
In football practice, I got so angered at the taunting that I totally jacked up
this big ass MoFo ... pads and all. That won me a little respect.
My only satisfaction with football was pounding all of my fellow jerk teammates
in practice (which was almost the whole team). Injuring my own teammates was
fun. I made a crack about the running back in practice and the coaches gave me
the football and a play to run as punishment. I ran…and injured the starting
quarterback that day. The coaches yelled, “Thanks a lot Russell!”
All I thought was ‘you gave me the fucking ball asshole!”
I was a freshman ball player and it was then that the seniors informed me of
“the tradition.” All of the freshman players had to bring sunflower seeds for
the elders to munch on every week. I went home and told Mommie Dearest about the
tradition. The day it was my turn, mom hands me a two-pound bag of generic SHELL
LESS sunflower seeds.
“They’ll beat me up!” I pleaded.
I showed up at practice and opened my bag with my head held low and displayed my
bounty to the group. They laughed and laughed and proceeded to chase me around
the field and tossed me into a huge slushy snow mud puddle. Coach finally
stopped this and to punish us, he demanded that the whole team run a mile around
the track carrying 45 pounds. Even I had to do this outrageous task!
I’m hobbling around the track, tears streaming down my face, carrying a 45-pound
free-weight as the smart seniors are bounding past me carrying the fucking bar
and damning me for my screw-up. I hated playing sports.
I threw shot put and discuss in Track my freshman year. I hated it.
I am glad I never quit those sports though. I’m happy I stuck to them. Then I
found The Theatre.

Posted by RAD at 07:21 PM | Comments (3)
My Older Brother Beat Me
My older brother Eric was a partier in high school and would always get drunk
with his friends and come home and terrorize us. When Ma was out of town, he'd
throw lavish parties and my sister and I were the drunken entertainment!
They'd all surround us, screaming, boozing and cranking their 80's hair-rock
while forcing Jen and I to spare -- in deadly combat. I always held back, coz
she was my sister and all. She wouldn't though, and I'd get beaten black and
blue by her. Her weapon was the shoe. Any shoe was a blunt instrument to her. I
swear she was proficient in sandal, pump, heel, sneaker or Jelly. I'd end up in
locked in the bathroom, where she’d kick holes in the door. It was Gladiator! I
never want to hear Def Leppard again.
Another Instance:
The crickets were out in full force on this particular morning in Aurora,
Colorado, 1988. I was in 6th grade and fast asleep. My room was in the basement,
next to my brother Eric's.
Dreaming heavily, the fan blowing sweet breezes in my face, I had not a care in
the world. The door to my room burst open and I was shocked awake to see shadowy
figures emerge from the light and stumble into my room. It was my brother Eric
and his friend Gary.
"Hey Russ," slurred Eric, "get up and take a shower. We're taking you out to
breakfast before school."
Never one to pass on a free meal, I hopped out of bed and into the shower. I got
dressed for school and went into the basement living room to find Eric and Gary
passed out drunk on the couch.
In horror I looked at the clock: 2:30 am!

Posted by RAD at 07:05 PM | Comments (7)
Silke Baucom
The main character of my novel is named Silke Baucom.
--
Silke Baucom was born in Denver on July 22, 1920, almost two years after her
parents Anneliese and Bruno Hans-Peter Von Baucom left the chaos of post-WWI
Germany from the port of Bordeaux, Gironde, France. The couple made the long
journey across the ocean aboard the ship Niagara. The newlyweds arrived at Ellis
Island New York on December 28, 1918. Bruno and Anneliese spoke only enough
English to get by and were urged by immigration officials, to their chagrin, to
drop the “von” in the last name. Thus, the family Von Baucom would be forever
known as the Baucom’s.
Anneliese and Bruno headed west to Colorado and settled in the state capital of
Denver. They moved into a small house and shortly thereafter, Silke was born.
She was born during the record setting summer heat of 1920. Bruno, an
established tailor who owned his own store, made a decent wage while Anneliese
was the happy homemaker.

Silke grew up in a loving and caring home. Her family was poor and struggled to
pay the bills each month, but they provided her everything she needed for a
happy life. Silke grew up speaking both German and English. When she was old
enough, one of her main pleasures was translating for her parents during their
shopping errands around town.
She was 14 when both of them died tragically in an automobile accident while
shopping for her surprise 14th birthday party gift. She was devastated. The
accident left her in the care of neighbor and long-time family friend Ms.
Belinda Tiddles. Ma Tiddles sold her parents house, her father’s tailoring
shoppe and used the money for expenses.
Ma Tiddles was a widow. Her husband took a shotgun to his head after the “Black
Thursday” Stock Market crash in October of ’29. It marked the beginning of The
Great Depression and his passing left her penniless. Ma Tiddles found a job as a
reading teacher and had been single ever since. To help out around the house,
Silke became the live-in housekeeper. Ma Tiddles was like a second mother to
her.
Not having any real family left instilled her with a strong foundation in life.
She was a hard worker and had a well-built work ethic. While going to high
school, she took a job working weekends at a local drug store. That small amount
of money allowed her to save a bit while still helping Ma Tiddles with the
bills.
Despite working and maintaining her studies, Silke spent a lot of time at
Denver’s newspaper, The Mountain Dailey News. She would indulge herself by
spending countless hours in the morgue perusing back issues. Denver had come a
long way since 1859, when it began at the confluence of the Cherry Creek and
South Platte Rivers. It was rough living back then compared to 1943. She always
dreamt about the wonders the future would hold.
It was a busy year when she was 17.Ma Tiddles passed away and she also graduated
from high school. Ma Tiddles, having no family, left her a meager amount of
money and she further supported herself by working at the department store. She
worked at the store for four long years while living in Ma Tiddles’ house.
She never once complained about her job. She was thankful to be working. One
thing she adored about working at the store was the hefty discounts received on
apparel. Her closets burst with clothes.
When she was 21, she pestered the staff at the magazine Rocky Mountain Life to
give her a job. The magazine was published locally but sold copies all around
the world. After the Editor looked over some of her writing samples, he
reluctantly hired her. She quit her job at the department store and started at
the magazine by copy editing stories. She impressed the editor so much with her
passion for the “lifeline of the city” that she was hired as a full-time feature
reporter. She became locally famous for her stories on musical events or the
latest scandals in the business district.
There was one person Silke could always count on. Cassie Melroy, her best
friend, was forever there for her. They had gone to school together and Cassie
lived a few blocks over when they were growing up. They were the same age but
perused very different paths in life. Silke was now an up-and-coming journalist
while Cassie was more of a family woman. Cassie was as close to family as Silke
got now that she was alone. Cassie was with her when she found out her parents
had been killed. Silke was so excited for Cassie when she announced her
engagement to Dan Calhoun, captain of the football team and high school
sweetheart.
It was now 1943 and her and Cassie were inseparable. Things had changed when
Cassie got married. Cassie’s wedding was lovely. Dan’s brother Carroll had
brought big bouquets of flowers for the decorations and flowers for the members
of the wedding party and the bouquet. The bouquet consisted of several large
gorgeous gardenias, orange blossoms, satin bows and was centered with a large
delicate orchid. It smelled heavenly! Cassie wore a beautiful white satin
wedding gown with a fitted bodice, sweetheart neckline and lace designs on the
full skirt. The headpiece was of orange blossoms on a full veil. Silke was the
Maid of Honor, wearing a blue lace dress and holding a bouquet of red roses. Dan
was dressed in his uniform because during the war he was not allowed to wear
civilian clothes. Seth Whaley, Dan’s best friend, was the Best Man.
Silke was happy for Cassie. It seemed as though all of her childhood dreams were
coming true. Silke’s dreams were yet to be realized. Still unmarried at age 23,
she had high hopes of one day finding her true love. There were times she
doubted it however. Being a writer for the magazine, she was content with her
life and worked very hard to make ends meet. She never regretted the path she
had chosen for herself. She was very fortunate to have been working at all
during the end of The Great Depression.
When radio blossomed, she was invited to be voice talent and became a regular
radio guest-performer. Radio was a lifeline for Americans. It provided news,
music and entertainment. She was glad to be a part of it, even if it was in some
small way. Rosie the Riveter would probably scoff at her, but she loved voicing
the many product endorsements and quirky walk-on characters in comedy programs.
She had a great time doing the funny voices or comedic sketches.
Posted by RAD at 05:56 PM | Comments (1)
The Ver
I am from Denver, Colorado USA. Here are some DENVER PICTURES.
Posted by RAD at 12:11 PM | Comments (0)
March 20, 2004
War Protest - Iraq One Year Later
I happened to stumble upon a war protest rally downtown today with normsquatch.
Luckily I had my camera. Police estimate about 500 people turned out for the
rally. I submitted six of the pics to the 9 News Digital Network. They were all
posted.
Look for the General Interest from rad2020 on Saturday, March 20, 2004 pictures.

Posted by RAD at 05:09 PM | Comments (0)
RAD PRAISE BY C. CHONG

Chocolate Chong say:
Over the course of the past few years, I have had the opportunity to shadow the
movements of Russell A. Dale. A trusted bodyguard, I am here to provide valuable
insight into his demeanor and way of going about things. As long as there is a
stage, soapbox, pallet or concrete slab, Russ will always be there. His message
of love, peace and honesty resonate throughout the land. As his protector, I
feel the urge to let the public know a little more about the mind of the man.
Why you ask? I’m also a friend and counselor to Russell A. Dale.
The adventures have been vast. A grueling schedule, sleepless nights and
constant motion have set the stage for things yet to come. There were the jolly
trips to St. Louis Missouri, Kansas City Kansas, Denver Colorado, Murray
Kentucky and countless other places in this great nation. All I can say is wow.
Watching his flare for the public consciousness made me proud to be in his
company. The way he commands the attention of the room is pure spectacle.

A little known fact, before a public appearance, Russ usually speaks to himself
in a mirror. He looks intently at himself and builds up the confidence to face
the people. Vocal warm-ups and last minute preparations are dealt with during
this special time. After 5 minutes, sometimes more, he is mentally prepared to
venture out. He usually starts in a nervous manner, because one never knows
where the enemies lurk. Foes and darkened comedians could be hunkered in trees,
stuffed into mailboxes, masquerading as servants, journalists or even smallish
children. Starting first with a subtle crouch, constantly glancing over his
shoulders, he then gradually moves towards a prominent stoop. Russ eventually
begins to feel at ease with people of all sorts. When I deem the security
threats are eliminated, Russ lets down his guard and the truth comes out. It is
with no worries that Russ begins his gab, standing tall with an air of pride.
During a speech or public performance, Russ starts things off by demonstrating
his untested ability to use the mind force. Always endeavoring to master this
unknown skill, he would theoretically pick out a specter from the crowd and
attempt to levitate himself and that chosen person simultaneously. I have never
actually seen Russ fully realize his mind force powers. Perhaps it is best that
I never witness this oddity. It is said that the din of the crowd and his always
wandering mind is what prevents him from displaying this awesome force. Russ has
repeatedly said that he uses the mind force rarely and will never do so on
demand. He is not a circus performer and yet I dream of the day when he justly
levitates the picked specter and himself into that air. It will be a sight to
see. It will be at that moment when the crowd will erupt in horrific jubilee!

I particularly remember one humble moment, when Russ was visiting a maximum
security prison. He appeared in the mess hall almost like a god, tossing around
cigarette packs to the throng horde. Humanitarian aid? Perhaps. Few inmates were
crushed to death as they chanted and cheered his name. The electricity of the
room as all screamed his name was something I will never forget. It almost
caused a riot. It was one of those precious moments when all time stops and you
fear for your life. Russ wasn't bringing gold or news of some dirty pardon. In
that brief instant, he brought hope to all the inmates, which was the only thing
these incarcerated peoples had left. He brought ideas, smiles, laughter and
smokes.
To some of those troubled criminals in the joint, a pack of cigarettes could
save them from a brutal ass raping. Russ thought of that sickly, thinly person,
whoever he may be. If he could save one individual from being sodomized in the
darkened prison showers, his journey would not have been in vain. If he could
prevent one forlorned prisoner from being someone's playtime bitch, then the
gleam of triumph would be forever his. And it was.
I was never so touched in my life as when wee Tommy Jankle, a feminine man in
his late 40's, sentenced to life in prison for the murder of a politician in
Idaho, wept and shook Russ' hand. The notorious Bubbie T. had manhandled Tommy
every day since he had arrived in the Fall of 1998. Russ naturally gave Tommy
the glad hand and in its wake he left a pack of Marlboro Reds. Tears streaming
down his face, Tommy made a seductive glance at Bubbie T. and in that brief
moment, I knew Tommy would be safe for a week, maybe more. It was a touching
instant and I am glad I had the opportunity to share it all with you.
It's those little things that help make this man great. A step above the rest.
It isn't the disturbing and reckless wielding of power and the egomania. It's
about honesty and integrity. Just like Bono, lead singer of the rock band U2,
Russ wants to use his influence to do some good for the world.
I shall protect him.
Posted by RAD at 01:47 AM | Comments (0)
LURCH
LURCH
by Russ Dale
LURCH
Blau und verletzt…
Immer rauchend.
Er ist so stark wie ein Gott.
Wenn nur ich ihm helfen könnte.
Das Ende

Posted by RAD at 01:14 AM | Comments (2)
“Thereafter”
Eighth grade sparked more creative juices when it came to writing. I was so good
in my English class that I got to sit out in the hallway with an elite group of
students and write stories about whatever I wanted. This was the time of the
epic classic “Thereafter” and it’s equally campy sequel: “Thereafter II: Death
of a Planet.”
Selected passages from “Thereafter”:
PLEASE NOTE: These are transferred in their original format, bad spelling,
grammar and the like. This story has got to be one of the most horrible things I
have ever written, yet oddly good. At the time, I thought it was awesome!
Reinhold has got to be the most disturbing villain in the history of literature.
--
Without electricity or gas people would surely suffer from the cold. Most of
their houses were gone. They could not cook their food or warm their bathe
water. Until one man brought it into the light.
“Why didn’t we think of it before? Everyone! Everyone! Light up your grills. We
can heat water and cook some food. A huge city BBQ.”
While the people in Denver who owned grills were preparing their BBQ, in another
part of the country what was left of NASA’s people were working on the problem.
--
The baby, who looked like a demon, had a hunch back, and one eye. The other eye
had a flap of skin covering the socket; its face looked like it was melted; it
only had three fingers on each hand. It had no nose, just two holes on its face.
The baby was a reddish color. He punched a hole through the window and then
crawled away. His name is Reinhold.
People who gathered around the wreckage saw the grotesque baby stand up and run
into a near by corn field.
What would this new generation of children do? Would they kill? Would they try
to take over the entire planet? What can stop them?
All over the world every newborn baby looks like this one. Still questions need
to be answered. Will the human race become extinct? Will the children feel the
wrath? Will they pay for the world’s mistakes? All this will be answered in:
Thereafter II
DEATH OF A PLANET!
--
Reinhold was the first “villain” character I ever wrote. I remember he had a
flare for vocabulary. I was a fan of NASA and the space program back then.
HUZZAH!

Posted by RAD at 01:05 AM | Comments (0)
My First Story
It was fifth grade when I began writing. The first story I ever wrote is 1986’s
Ten Million Dollar Adventure. I wrote this at a typewriter during my free time
in the back of Room 52: Mr. Regas’ class. It had illustrations that are long
gone and taken by time. I was 11 and thought it was the most brilliant thing
ever written.
PLEASE NOTE: it is presented in its original typed state.
The ten million dollar adventure
Once I was diging in my backyard for rocks. It took me five min. to hit clay.
Then I hit some thing. I broke throught. There was a tunnel. On the tunnel wall
was a calender it was the year 3067. As soon as I saw that I called Tony B. and
Scott S. and I said “come over I found a tunnel in my backyard.” So they did.
Tony, Scott and I went in we walked and walked until we hit a light we almost
went in but all of us said at the same time “Raiders of the Lost Ark” so we
threw a rock in and some arrows flew out. We went around the light. Next we came
to a X lucky we had a shovel. Tony dug and dug and dug until he hit a statue we
brushed it off it was a pig. Then we said at the same time “Romancing the
Stone”. We broke it. It was a pink and blue stone worth over ten million
dollars. Now getting out was the big trick. We got lost. First we went into a
tunnel that had a lot of snakes we went throught. Then we saw a bright light, it
was so bright we could not look at it. The next tunnel had a 20 foot dimand that
was worth a lot so we got it. We saw some light it was the hole. So we had to go
out of the tunnel. We covered it up. But now we are not the same, ever since we
went in we started to get older by the day. So we had to go back to cure us. The
return of the adults. But their was only one cure, that was a healing stone in
the room of no return. But we had to make plans to go in. “We don’t know where
the room is” Tony said. We went in, we looked in tons of rooms. Finally we came
to the room of no return. Tony forgot about some traps he walked throught the
door and a lazer shoot out and hit his neck and made a huge hole “he is dead”
Scott said. I said “I know.” We did not get close to the lazer anymore. Scott
and I got the stone. As soon as we got it we were kids again we were cured. “not
so much for Tony” Scott said. We got Tony’s body to tell his parents. We looked
at Tony’s neck it glowed the stone healed Tony’s neck! Tony said “what
happened!” Now he is fine and we are still kids. We never went back. Now we are
rich.
The End
--
I was VERY proud of that story and it spawned 3 “books” containing a paragraph
or two-length story per page. Each had about 20 pages and continued Russ, Tony
and Scott’s adventures. The poorly written stories progressed through
generations and eventually took place in the far future with Russ Jr. and Tony
Jr.

Posted by RAD at 12:58 AM | Comments (2)
March 19, 2004
Papa Junk Returns
Papa Junk Returns
by Russ Dale
Dancing with my shadow’s bane. Searching for the life. Can it be found?
Hella slump. Can yous believe it? I’s been fired.
Spendin’ my precious time working for Johnny Law...Sargent Junk...and they’s let
me go. I’s canna stand me rage. Workin’ 80 houra weeks, 16 houra days catchin’
and stopin’ them mangey, stoopin’ crooks...and they’s fire me for smokin’ the
dopey. Shit.
I’s got to go back to ridin’ dat horsey. I’s always found pleasure is selling
the junk. The Yam Yams and white lotus make ah me the greens ah. Sellin’ the
junk to feverish fiends am my lot in life. I’s goin’ back to the profit. I’s
even stumbled into dat evidence locka and found me some premium horse. Take a
little here and a little there – stuff them pockets – and I’s got enough junk to
continue to live in ample luxury.
Ain’t notha wrong wit dat! I’s never used dat filth. I’s just sellin’ product.
Welcome me in junkies...Papa Junk am back to make them dreams alive.
I’s got me a job.

Posted by RAD at 07:00 PM | Comments (0)
March 18, 2004
Bitch Pimp -- Papa Junk am on the Beat

Papa Junk am on the Beat
by Russ Dale

Gutten tag filthies!

Papa Junk am back!
Afta small hiatus, I's in my home turf again.
I's went to Jamaica fors vacation.
A lotta adventures in my bag.
New suit for sellin', new ties for tyin'!
Johnny Law am my pal now. I's on his payroll.

I's open for business again.
Bring your's kind to me for the horse.
I's talk yours ears off, for I's learned much...

Gotta question for Papa Junk?
Bring it on. Dirty Tom ain't got no grudge wit me no more.
I'ms a deputy! I'ms catchin' them filthy crooks.
I's workin' for the man now!
Walk wit me...talk wit me...that hole you'll go!
My badge tell all.
White truck be spyin'.
White truck am truthful!
Like Mark Amortan said in “Dance That Monkey Jig,”
“I SPAT on your gab! Sleep slumpy...in my spat!
I spat on your gab! I spat! Spatty! SPATTY...”

You's want the drug? Come on down.
My boys will catch ya...knock ya down.
Yous cry for me to helps ya! I laugh!
Yous got the right to remain silent.
Shut your mouth. I's them law now.

I's Sergeant Junk!
Get a job...lest you be beaten by anti-smack blues!
Get a job...for I's changed them rules!

Nasty addicts!

Posted by RAD at 04:44 PM | Comments (2)
March 17, 2004
Grimace 1.1a.2b

Posted by RAD at 04:08 PM | Comments (3)
Grimace 1
Check out these grimaces! I'm vain and enjoy looking at pictures of myself.

I'm bearded but plan on trimming it back to my goatee soon. Huzzah!
Posted by RAD at 08:35 AM | Comments (2)
March 16, 2004
The Dance 1

Posted by RAD at 02:47 PM | Comments (4)
Guinness and Mars
Guinness bubbles really do sink. Finally the Guinness mystery is solved.
Have you been keeping tabs on the Mars Exploration Rover Missions? Personally, I
think this looks like a fossil:

Posted by RAD at 11:14 AM | Comments (1)
March 15, 2004
WTF w/ a baseball bat

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time
Posted by RAD at 08:03 PM | Comments (0)
March 13, 2004
Da Haus Party
RADCAM:

Donovan's Haus Party is tonight. Lots of digi to come. It's Saturday. Huzzah.
Posted by RAD at 10:31 AM | Comments (3)
March 12, 2004
normsquatch and Chong
normsquatch

Chocolate Chong

normsquatch and Chocolate Chong

Posted by RAD at 04:14 PM | Comments (0)
Thank the Maker for Friday
I am excited for the weekend! Work has been busy this past week. House party
tomorrow. Lots of pictures to be coming soon.
Chocolate Chong had a quick photo shoot with normsquatch yesternight. I haven't
decided if I shall show anyone those pictures, but they are hilarious.
So in all reality, I have nothing of value to say until this evening. I leave
you a quote from VINCE KLORTHO:
"Gozer the Traveler. He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the
rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg!
Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants,
they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zools knew
what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!"
Ghostbusters rules.
Posted by RAD at 12:41 PM | Comments (1)
March 11, 2004
FROM POLITIK 3 -- SCURVIES v1
Todd’s Apartment – Evening
BO enters carrying an abnormally large sports bag. TODD, MASON and MANDA stare
at Bo.
TODD
What’s in that bag?
BO
What I was telling you about at breakfast. These my friends, are Scurvies.
BO holds up a pair of black “Incredible Hulk”-type pants. The legs of the pants
are frayed.
MASON
Wow.
TODD
Those are nice.
Mason and Todd rush towards Bo. He pulls piles of Scurvies in all colors out of
his bag and drops them on the floor. Bo turns over the pair in his hands. A
Weenis Wear Logo resides on the back pocket. Manda is unimpressed.
BO
Check out the logo: Weenis Wear.
TODD
You just may have something here Reverend.
BO
There are plenty of them to go around. We’re going to have to start wearing them
so they really catch on.
MANDA
Don’t sell those.
The guys take off their pants and put on the Scurvies.
BO
Why not? We wear them. We’re fashion powerhouses.
MANDA
They make you look like homeless people.
BO
You are mistaken Amanda dear.
MASON
Do I look like a homeless person?
TODD
Do I look like a homeless person?
The three look ridiculous with their hands on their hips. Manda laughs.
Bo’s cell phone rings. Bo answers the phone.
BO
This is Mr. Weeis. My Texan B&G queen…yeah…I’ll be right there.
TODD
Where are you going?
BO
I’m meeting Tray to discuss marketing techniques for the Scurives. You guys keep
these, I’ve got more in the truck.
Bo rushes out the door.
MANDA
They’ll never catch on.
TODD
I am already a Scurvies lover.
Posted by RAD at 08:37 PM | Comments (1)
FROM POLITIK 2 -- Hoagie Authority v1
Park – Sunset
BO and TRAY partake in a picnic.
BO
I’m a hoagie authority. I’m the hoagie inspector. If you’ve ever tasted my
creations you obviously cannot deny my sandwich making powers. Hoagie eye see
all.
TRAY
Darlin’ this is a lovely picnic.
BO
Listen now as I convey secretive hoagie wisdom upon you. I use only the finest
quality meats, cheeses and produce in my homemade hoagies. [Bo demonstrates his
technique] With fresh Italian rolls split lengthwise and crammed with layers of
the aforesaid foodie meats, mouth-watering cheeses, snappish lettuce, viscous
condiments and topped off with a dash of oregano, I create a item for
consumption that is unnaturally and freakishly delicious. My hoagies are
legendary where I come from.
TRAY
Those sound like delicious hoagies.
BO
Tray, my hoagies, also known regionally as subs, heroes, bombers, poor boys,
grinders, torpedoes, rockets and the simply elegant Italian sandwich, have
driven lovely ladies like yourself into bouts of ecstasy upon merely smelling
the delectable morsels.
Tray gasps.
BO
Sometimes I have a hankering for a simple sausage and pepper hoagie. Other times
a dried husk Italian roll is all I eat. It doesn’t matter, for my hunger cannot
be sated until I share my hoagies with someone I love.
TRAY
How sweet Bo.
BO
I dream of my hoagies packing the bellies of the rich and famous, filling their
gapes with garlic and rolls! And you, dearest Tray, I hand you a wonderfully
made tasteful treat to smear upon your grimace. Have a hoagie.
They eat.
TRAY
I make a pretty good grilled cheese sandwich.
BO
I don’t know about that.
TRAY
I challenge you to a grilled cheese cook off.
BO
I cannot have a grilled cheese cook off. I truly would like to but no-go. I’ve
been involved in many a hurtful cook off and lost friends because of them. I
will not brag that my cooking capabilities are spectacular on the minimum scale,
but I should tell you I am renowned for cooking a good meal.

TRAY
[mouthful of hoagie] Do tell.
BO
First it was the omelet cook off. Allison boasted and bragged. I whooped her.
She cried in concession and then bid we never speak again.
TRAY
Lies!

BO
One cannot forget the Libby Italian Dish Debacle Cook Off. She made a great
lasagna, but collapsed in ecstasy upon eating my chicken fettuccini. After
recovering she packed up her belongings and left town. There were no letters, no
phone calls. Nothing but a garlic press on the steps. I was devastated.
TRAY
Awwwwww.

BO
And there was Aspen. I told her I could not partake in her enchilada cook off. I
explained to her the facts about my frightening skills in the kitchen. "That's
OK Bo. No pressure," she said, "Nothing like that would never happen with me,"
she lied.

TRAY
What happened?
BO
I prepared a Mexican fiesta feast so splendor-filled that when she walked into
the room the very reek of the meal drove her into a frenzy the likes of which no
man should endure. I think it was the fry bread. It could have been the Queso. I
don’t know.
TRAY
It’s just a grilled cheese cook off Bo.
BO
No Tray. I value your friendship. We can only dream about a grilled cheese cook
off.
Tray tickles him and speaks seductively in a thick Texas accent.
TRAY
Scardy cat.
BO
A cook off it is.
Posted by RAD at 08:10 PM | Comments (1)
March 10, 2004
FROM POLITIK 1 -- Freakjob v1
Bo’s Kitchen – Evening
BO and TODD drink coffee.
BO:
Manda called me a freakjob today.
TODD
A freakjob?
BO
Yeah because I dislike sushi and guac.
TODD
Well, she is correct.
BO
BAH!

FLASHBACK
Restaurant – Morning
Bo and MANDA eat pie at a coffee shop.
MANDA
Butter and bacon equals bad.
BO
No. What’s really bad are corn dogs, corn bread, sushi, tomatoes, olives and
guacamole.
MANDA
I have no response to that.
BO
You’re just a guac lover.
Bo eats his pie.
MANDA
Sorry, but you are the freakjob in this scenario.
BO
I’m not familiar with that term.
MANDA
You are even more of a freakjob since you've never heard the term freakjob.
BO
I've heard of freakish, freaky, freak-ho, freak-speak, freak-layer and
freak-looker. That has got to count for something.
MANDA
Nope. No points for those.
BO
Are you a freak authority?
MANDA
Dur.
Bo’s Kitchen – Evening
Bo and Todd continue their conversation.
TODD
DUR! You are a freakjob. You haven’t had good sushi.
BO
Yuck.
TODD
I’ll take you to the good shit sometime.
BO
I don’t need no sushi.
TODD
Yeah you do.
BO
It’s nasty and nappy. Same with guacamole.
TODD
It’s better than biscuits covered in snot.
BO
Watch your tongue fool.
TODD
What you gonna do hole?
BO
Hole gonna kick yer ass!
TODD
Guac hater.
BO
You am a dirty, fool. Freakjob.
The doorbell rings.

Posted by RAD at 07:42 PM | Comments (2)
Biscuits and Gravy
Dear Readers:
I believe that biscuits and gravy is the finest breakfast food ever created by
humans. My fascination with this wholesome treat started in my teen years. I
first made biscuits and gravy on Sunday, December 1, 1991. I remember it like it
was yesterday. I was 16.
I pride myself on taking the quest for biscuity knowledge very seriously. The
finest plate of biscuits and gravy is out there somewhere. I will find it.
Question: While on the road, why is there always a hankering for a mess of
fluffy, mongo buttermilk biscuits slathered in peppery, white country sausage
gravy?
Please give me your thoughts. Thanks for your time.
Sincerely,
B&G Lore Master RAD
The Biscuits and Gravy Society
Denver, Colorado

Posted by RAD at 04:29 PM | Comments (0)
Words
Freakjob - I love this word. Someone called me a freakjob today. I commended
them for referring to me using this term. There are a cornucopia of words I
enjoy using in my everyday speak. Disturbing, freakish, homes, yo yo, dawg and
motha fucka are just a few.
Do you have a particular word that you use daily? What is your favorite word?
Tell me.

Posted by RAD at 08:56 AM | Comments (6)
March 09, 2004
The Corrs -- A Band
The Corrs: A band. Jim, Sharon, Caroline and Andrea Corr are from Dundalk
Ireland. Dundalk is a harbor town mid-way between Dublin and Belfast on the east
coast of Ireland. MAP: View image
U2 is the best band in the world though. This is a fact.
Posted by RAD at 04:36 PM | Comments (0)
March 08, 2004
My Top 25 Movie Moments
25.) Pee-wee Herman (Paul Reubens) sings “the stars at night are big and bright”
and gets a spirited response and claps from the friendly Texan public: “Deep in
the heart of Texas.” (Pee-wee's Big Adventure, 1985)
24.) Darth Vader tells Luke Skywalker that he is his father. (Star Wars: Episode
V - The Empire Strikes Back, 1980)
23.) Alex DeLarge (Malcolm McDowell) and his Droogs beat down a man while Alex
sings “Singing in the Rain.” (A Clockwork Orange, 1971)
22.) Neo (Keanu Reeves) realizes that “Whoa” he’s the one. (The Matrix, 1999)
21.) Knight Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) challenges Death (Bengt Ekerot) to a
chess game for his life. A much parodied concept. (The Seventh Seal, 1957)
20.) Barney “Bonehead” Springboro uses his telekinetic powers to burst open Jane
Mitchell’s blouse revealing her beautiful, pink bra clad bosom as Peyton Nichols
looks on in pleasure. (Zapped!, 1982) Scott Baio, Heather Thomas and Willie
Aames star in this classic 80’s flick.
19.) The super powers of Officer Dave Speed…Dave becomes able to move objects
with the mind force, discover mysterious crimes, jump with no problem from a
skyscraper and blow a massively huge bubble from one piece of gum to save he and
his friends from a sunken ship. Like most heroes, there is a weakness…the color
red. (Super Fuzz, 1980)
18.) Rodney Dangerfield dons swim trunks, climbs upon a diving board and
executes a flawless Triple Lindy. (Back to School, 1986)
17.) Rowdy class clown Jay-Jay Manners (Michael J. Fox) beats the cocky king of
the preps: Beau Middleton (Anthony Edwards) for the love of Beth Franklin (Nancy
McKeon). (High School USA, 1983)
16.) The remarkable Joe Don Baker puts on a very frighteningly real portrayal of
a beer swilling, ill tempered and all around unlikable scumbag detective named
Mitchell. You are treated to watching Joe Don stuff his face and play mirror
games with an annoying kid while oafishly screaming the line “Buzz off kid!”
(Mitchell, 1975)
15.) Ted Stroehmann (Ben Stiller) mangles his “franks’n’ beans” by zipping them
up. (There’s Something About Mary, 1998)
14.) Piter De Vries (Brad Dourif) swills the juice and delivers this classic
ditty: “IT IS BY WILL ALONE I SET MY MIND IN MOTION. IS BY THE JUICE OF SAFU
THAT THOUGHTS AQUIRE SPEED, THE LIPS AQUIRE STAINS, THE STAINS BECOME A WARNING.
IT IS BY WILL ALONE I SET MY MIND IN MOTION…” (Dune, 1984)
13.) Killer Bob/Leland Palmer (Bob Silva/Ray Wise) rapes his own daughter in a
twisted multiple personality sex scene. (Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, 1992)
The first line of TP:FWWM is "Get me Agent Chester Desmond in Fargo, North
Dakota!” delivered by F.B.I. Regional Bureau Chief Gordon Cole (David Lynch).
12.) The Massachusetts 54th Colored Regiment sings and testifies “Oh my Lord”
around a campfire the night before participating in the assault on Fort Wagner
near Charleston, South Carolina. (Glory, 1989)
11.) Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) calls Professor X (Patrick Stewart) “Wheels.”
(X-Men, 2000)
10.) In XANADU did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure dome decree… “Rosebud” was the
final word of Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles). (Citizen Kane, 1941)
9.) George (Marshall Bell) lifts up his shirt and enters a trance to reveal the
disturbing, knowledgeable and puppet-like Kuato living in his belly. (Total
Recall, 1990)
8.) Captain Koons (Christopher Walken) gives little Butch Coolidge his
birthright and relates the story of the watch “being up his ass” for two years.
(Pulp Fiction, 1994)
7.) Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, the Drill Instructor (R. Lee Ermey), introduces
the recruits to the foul-mouthed beginnings of basic training. (Full Metal
Jacket, 1987) “THIS IS MY RIFLE. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my
life.”
6.) A retired elite commando, Col. John Matrix (Arnold Schwarzenegger) has only
a few hours to find and rescue his daughter from an exiled dictator. (Commando,
1985) During the adventure, Matrix delivers the line ‘Remember when I said I was
going to kill you last?’ to Sully (David Patrick Kelly). Arnold boasts, ‘I lied’
and drops Sully off a cliff. When asked where Sully went, Matrix replies, ‘I had
to let him go.’
5.) Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden), Commanding Officer of
Burpelson Air Force Base delivers the classic “bodily fluids” speech. (Dr.
Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, 1964) "A
foreign substance is introduced into the precious bodily fluids, without the
knowledge of the individual and certainly without any free choice. That's the
way the commies work . . ."
4.) Sherman Klump (Eddie Murphy) proposes marriage and dry humps the ground to
the sweet sounds of a mimicking mariachi band. "Hey, baby, let me put some beef
in your taco…” band singing “SOME BEEF IN YOUR TACO” (Nutty Professor II: The
Klumps, 2000)
3.) Robert De Niro and Christopher Walken play a little game of Vietcong
roulette. (The Deer Hunter, 1978)
2.) A toxic-waste doused thug (Paul McCrane) disintegrates on the windshield of
a speeding car. (Robocop, 1987) McCrane also played Pete Conrad in the TV Mini
Series From the Earth to the Moon and as Dr. Robert Romano in ER.
1.) Travis Bickle (De Niro) cleans the filth and scum off the streets of New
York. (Taxi Driver, 1976)

Posted by RAD at 04:26 PM | Comments (5)
March 07, 2004
My Family

The Dale family. My mother and siblings. Jen and I are twins.
Posted by RAD at 01:01 PM | Comments (2)
THE PASSION PART 2
After seeing Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ (2004), I had a hankering
for a feast of hot wings, fries, cold beverage and Rocky Mountain Oysters. I
went to the local Wings of Fire restrent.

While partaking in the fried delights, I pondered the movie. I liked this film.
This film moved me. I will give you impressions of the movie, as it is up to
each individual who sees it to decide if they liked it or not. The scourge of
Jesus is pretty vicious, but I am rarely shocked by anything. There is brutal
violence and lots of caking and pooling blood, exposed ribs and so on and so
forth. Be prepared. Nobody should have to go through what Jesus did. I wept.

I am not a particularly religious person; I am more of a spiritual person. James
Caviezel, in a role of a lifetime, played a high-quality Jesus. The original
language was a nice touch, and I found it very easy to read the subtitles and
still take in the imagery. I still think Willem Dafoe’s Jesus in The Last
Temptation of Christ was better.
This film had Mel Gibson written all over it. Anyone who is a fan of Braveheart
will see many common themes and images in both films. The score is excellent, a
Shankar/Peter Gabriely New World-like score by John Debney.
It’s a must see for people of all faiths. It is cinema art at it’s finest.
Pondering the fate of Jesus didn’t make me enjoy my fried feast any better, but
if you’ve never tried Rocky Mountain Oysters, aka calf fries, bull testicles,
prairie oysters, Montana tendergroins, cowboy caviar or swinging beef, you are
really missing out on a delicacy.

I’m not usually a fan of organ meats, but I like RMOs! I have nothing against
eating animal genitalia. In some cultures, animal genitalia are considered an
aphrodisiac.
That’s right friends, we craggy folks of the Rocky Mountain expanse are not
easily upset. Go see The Passion of the Christ.

Posted by RAD at 12:51 PM
March 06, 2004
Coke Whores
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Like an epic tale from mythology, Russ Dale sat beside the mountain shanty near
the lake awaiting a sign from the stars. The fifth day of his vigil, he was
startled when a beautiful woman clad in blue rose from the clear water. Sweet
trumpets and heavenly chorale music filled his ears. Could this be the sign he
was waiting for? She was beautiful. She glided towards him silently, asked him
for some cocaine and his smile turned to a look of abject horror. He collapsed
in a heap, unconscious. She took this opportunity to rifle his pockets and
pilfer his passed-out body. She managed to lift several sentimental items,
including his "good luck Ronald Regan silver coin" and thirteen American
dollars.

It seems as though many filhies and dirties have made their desire to be Russ’
companion. In a statement released earlier this week, Dale tells a tale of
horror and drug-use tactics by some women in his constant search for what he
affectionately calls "his Jackie."
"She'll probably pawn my lucky charm to score more dope," Dale said of the
incident in disgust, "and I hope the bitch dies of an overdose. The thuggish
wench stole my Regan coin! I feel so violated. She probably used the opportunity
to pleasure herself on my lifeless hulk. I cannot think on it!" Dale angrily
said as he spat on the ground.
Dale also added, "If addicted to any drug, be it alcohol, cigarettes or the
heroin: please get help. There are far better things to do with your time. Try
flying a kite or leaping for joy."
It is unknown who the suspected crack whore was. An investigation is pending.
Another Ronald Regan coin was donated to the campaign by an unknown source.
-30-

Below is the entire Russell A. Dale statement:

”She is so hot!!!!! I am jealous...I find it hard to control my emotions when
viewing this pic... She’s not right for you anyway, seems she has an emotional
problem. – clearly evident in her pleading letter. Later, MELT"
A reply from a friend about a message and photo I received.
Friends, I have been feverishly weeding out the messages in my personals mailbox
because I have been receiving many valid inquiries into my worldwide search for
“my Jackie.”
Over the past few weeks, much to my amazement, I've received several email
messages and photographs from beautiful women in search of companionship. They
wanted desperately to be considered as candidates. I do not want to cheapen the
process by revealing boring details, but a little information is needed as
always.
I arranged meetings at my mountaintop retreat and after an extensive
interviewing process (meeting face-to-face and having them fill out my 24 page
questionnaire/application and other unmentionable duties and disease tests), I
have found out through this complex single scope background investigation that
these lovely ladies were all coke whores. That's right! Hot women who would do
anything for blow! It’s very sad. Perhaps in another life I would be the loving
companion to such women in need...but not Mr. Russ Dale! Not in this day and
age! No cokey girlies hanging around my office. No druggie fiends stickin' their
business in my booth!
All of the indications were there before my eyes. Twitchin'...the kind of
shakies one exhibits when the jones comes ah creepin'. Plus they always added
the cryptic line: "Oh by the way darlin', I'm a coke whore. Is that going to be
a problem?"
I should have known by the white powdery substance freakishly evident near their
noses.
They just wanted a sugar daddy to assist them in their rise to fortune and glory
and were filled with high hopes that the chosen sugah dada provide them with
enough coke to enjoy the higher pleasures of life. I was sickened and wondered
why these coke whores always flocked to my hail. All I ever wanted was someone
special. Someone to be there for me and I for her. Are all of the wholesome
women gone in the world? Must these coke fiends want me? Why? WHY!? One of them
even jacked me for my cash monies and lucky Ronald Regan coin! That's just plain
wrong! I've never been jacked in my life. Now I've been jacked! Why was I
jacked?
Crack ho's need not apply. Thank you.
--Russ Dale

Posted by at 10:42 AM | Comments (0)
RAD SITH

Sometimes I feel as though I were a dark Jedi.
Posted by at 12:44 AM | Comments (0)
March 05, 2004
The Passion part 1

MELT and I saw The Passion of the Christ. Review to come.

Posted by at 05:46 PM | Comments (1)
I HATE GOING TO THE MOVIES
Greetings friends. In the same vein as my revulsion-filled, hatefully received
reviews of LOTR: The Two Towers Extendo Mega DVD version and Marvel Comic’s
Hulk, I feel compelled to discuss my feelings regarding the whole movie going
experience. One word: sickened!
I went to the theatre one sunny Sunday afternoon to see the latest Hollywood
tripe and was shocked and chagrined at what transpired. Why my dollars are
wasted in the theater is beyond me. If I wanted to pay $8.50 to be doubled over
in a tense frenzy, counting all of the times my neck writhed in repugnance,
painfully feeling my body reel and jerk uncontrollably at the people around me,
I would have gone to a wrestling match to watch those wonderfully brute feminine
WWE Divas.
NOW I KNOW WHY I USUALLY WAIT UNTIL DARKNESS TO SEE MOVIES. I knew I was in for
trouble when, before the usual 20 minutes of commercials began, the elf-like
child behind us stated to her parents that she was a film authority. And she did
it loudly, as loud as all of her commentary during the entire 138-minute film
was. One cannot escape crapola commercialism in the theaters, as one is forced
to watch commercials BEFORE the previews accompanied by valuable children
remarks!

I have a feeling I am getting to the point where I can only enjoy movies in the
quite of my own home. Experiencing films in the theater with packs of yapping
friends and families dressed in costumes sickens me. I much prefer to enjoy
cinema alone in front of my hi-definition gigantic plasma TV and surround sound
DVD action. It is then that I can pick apart films and give them my sincerest
critiques.
The movie was rated PG-13 for sci-fi action violence, some disturbing images and
brief partial nudity. That didn’t stop ass-face father from bringing his
3-year-old daughter to ruin the film for everyone in a 4 to 6 row radius. She
had to have been clinically retarded (IQ less than 55; diagnosis usually made at
birth; condition unchanging throughout life; due to organic defects). Not that I
have anything against mentally disabled persons, but when it comes to my pal the
cinema, please stay at home or wait until DVD. This child’s attention span ended
during the previews and it got worse from there.
The movie started. I was enthralled for 3 minutes and then Jerko-daddy behind me
fell asleep. He was one of those loud breathers. It was very irritating. Each
breath he took made my back arch in disgust. Him sleeping didn’t deter his
daughter from holding a conversation anyway in munchkin speak, “Where does he
live?” “I like this part.” “What time is it?” “Who’s that?” “More candy!”
I can go on and on. Loud breather dad finally woke up when the action began. He
kept trying to silence his daughter, but it would not work. I was ready to leap
over the seat, stare her in the eyes, drip spittle from my frothing mug and
kindly ask her to shut her festering gob while simultaneously giving her dad a
black eye. I held back my wrath as I have an active imagination and do not lean
towards violence.
Just when you thought she had started comprehending the film, candies would be
spilled on the floor. How much candy did they purchase anyway? I know at least a
pound came rolling my way on the sticky ground.
One thing I longed for in the film was brutal medieval warfare depictions.
Little girl kicked my seat through the entire movie. She was sighing and ready
to go home after 30 minutes. She obviously did not have a clue as to what was
happening though she was still a cinema authority.
Missing the plot of movie, my inner beast was almost released in a deadly
berserk of emotional stress when I came close to smacking the youngster across
the face, spilling her 32 pounds of Skittles and making her soil her pretty pink
party dress. Film authority my ass. What movie was she watching? Everything she
said she knew about the movie was wrong and each incorrect comment fueled my
desire to violently pull her by the hair, drag her into the dim isle, seize a
rubber hose and beat her into submission to the shock and vexation of the
applauding audience.
At least I can rent or buy the movie on DVD with an additional 30-40 minutes and
catch all of the stuff I missed.
I must not forget to mention the huge forheaded 6-year-old twins sitting in
front and to the left asking their mother to read the subtitles and constantly
begging for more snacks and drinks. Their whimpers and cries also filled me with
a dangerous rage. I wanted to jump over the seat and thump the children’s faces
while shoving popcorn into their equally muted mother’s festering facade.
That was just the few that sat around me. The rest of the audience was little
different. I know I have an ulcer now. Gone are the days of first-rate movies
and even better movie-going experience. It is now replaced by altered
perceptions and computer generated extras.
Friendly advise: Parents please keep the kids at home or at least take them to
exclusively rated G movies. One of these days a loyal movie patron will crack
and make headline news for throttling a family of yapping Gelflings because the
runts wanted to know the time of day every minute of the movie.
The only recent good thing in the film industry was the sickly performance of
Brad “It is by will along I set my Dune mind in motion” Dourif as Grima “Lackey
of the Ring” Wormtongue. Dourif never gets the credit he so desperately
deserves.
That is all.

Posted by at 11:46 AM | Comments (3)
Carson's Pub
RAGS ARE NASTY DIRTY TRASH CLOTH!
(Renderings of Carson from Tome, 1997, by Jeffrey C. Dale) I first created
Carson in 1989. A cartoony bartender and owner of Carson’s Pub, he was
all-knowing and all-seeing. Carson magically stepped out from his cartoonish
world in 1994 and was my sidekick on 90.9 FM, KASF.

Carson’s spirit has been captured in my current novel. This new character bears
the same traits.
EXCERPT:
“There was Harlem. There was Kansas City. And then there was Five Points.”

March 1943 – Denver Colorado
In the Five Points, next to the USO club on Welton Street, sat Carson’s Pub. All
of the small businesses were close in Five Points. People were friendly and not
afraid to speak to the soldiers. A modest brick building that showed it’s age;
the pub was a dimly lit jazz club and bar. The establishment was filled with
service men relaxing during their free time. People of all colors came to
Carson’s for a calming and entertaining time. There had been some legendary jazz
performances in this smoky place.

A crippled patron at the bar spoke to the bartender, gesturing to the group
behind him, “Who are those guys?”
The bartender, a stone-faced black man known only as Carson, was wise beyond his
years. He had gray hair from beard to mustache to bushy eyebrows. He knew about
every coming and going in Denver. It paid to be the eyes and ears of the city.
Whatever the need, if people knew enough to ask his counsel, they would get what
they needed. Carson had also been known to pick up a trumpet to participate in
impromptu jam sessions.
Carson explained matter-of-factly, “The air echelon of the 380h Bombardment
Group arrived Monday, the first of March, at Lowry Field. They fly those B-24
Liberator bombers. You can tell which squadron they’re in by the patches on
their leather jackets. Those boys over there are with the 530th Squadron,” he
pointed to the group of 5 uniformed men gathered at a nearby table. Their
leather jackets, along with the American Flag, sported an insignia patch of Bugs
Bunny sitting on a falling bomb.
The men were drinking heavily, laughing and speaking loudly. Private 1st Class
(PFC) Adrian Alan, a 21 year old from Texas, was being the most obnoxious and
was obviously the leader of the group. “I’ve got the Krauts and Japs in my
crosshairs boys! I’ll drop so much ordinance the slopes won’t know what’s
happening!” he boasted. The rest of his friends whooped and hollered in
acknowledgement.
Adrian was the eldest of 3 children. He was handsome and thin, about 6 feet 2
inches tall with sandy blonde hair and dark gray eyes. Unshaven, rumor has it
that he has a tattoo of a Japanese flag marred with 4 bullet holes on his right
shoulder. Adrian’s father was killed in a farming accident when Adrian was 17
years old. It was a shame. He was kicked in the stomach by a horse. Adrian’s
mama was a midwife and his other two brothers were already fighting overseas.

Posted by at 03:18 AM | Comments (1)
March 04, 2004
Welcome

Welcome to RADHOLE, a companion to my award winning website www.rad2020.com.
Here you will find daily rants by guests and myself. I am currently festering in
front of my console, waiting patiently while my pal Allison configures
everything for me because I am inept at such computery things. Thanks Allison
for doing such a great job. You are making me look good.
What exactly is Radhole you ask? It’s the home of RADsquatch! See RADsquatch
lumber through the wilderness clumsily. The RADsquatch enigma is aka Mr. Russell
A. Dale or I to be more precise. Radhole sounds dirty, but it is not. There
ain’t notha wrong with peering into this Radhole. You hear what I’m sayin’
J-Hole?
This is a place where I hope to publish bits and pieces of my novels for peer
critique and review. It’s a place where photos friends or I have taken and will
be displayed. It is a place for Chocolate Chong to finally have a venue to speak
to the masses. It is a place where my freakishness will be on display for the
entire world to suckle. Feel free to add your comments and wisdom. This is,
after all, a place where you can be an inspirational force in my life, or a
dreaded warlord foe. Either way evil dread lord, I want your comments.
Again welcome and prepare yourselves for a wild, wacky ride into the unknown
reaches of time and space. Now burble with me friends. Burble!

Posted by at 07:47 PM | Comments (8)
a test

This is a RAD test.
A TEST!
Posted by at 07:37 PM | Comments (1)
RADHOLE Definitions
These definitions pertain to the level of trust and secrecy/security within the
collective group and their respected associates. Similar to the United States
Government "DEFCON" levels; these are merely a guide to safe and friendly
conversations. Lean them and incorporate the code words into everyday language.
It's fun!

RAD Hole 1 "ELLIS" - The lowest form of secrecy in RAD 2020 dealings. "ELLIS"
can be talked about openly with anyone. Normal, everyday conversation is
considered "ELLIS". No needs or worries are associated with "ELLIS".

RAD Hole 2 "KANCIE" - The next step in the RAD 2020 secrecy circle of trust is
"KANCIE." Close friends are eligible to partake in "KANCIE" conversations (i.e.
girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, and other 'close' associates). There
is no need for secure locations.

RAD Hole 3 "POPEYE" - General populous may know of "POPEYE" on a NEED TO KNOW
basis. If the action is important enough and has been discussed, "POPEYE" 'eats
his spinach' and lets the world know. "POPEYE" usually surfaces before a written
work is about to be published (i.e. a script, essay, book, marketing campaign,
film etc.) Until that time, the people are unaware of the action.

RAD Hole 4 "JEBIDIAH" - Open speak in certain circles and related parties, but
not in public non-secure places. "JEBIDIAH" borders closely to RAD Hole 5,
"KHAN," and secrecy is still a major factor.

RAD Hole 5 "KHAN" - Only trusted Advisors are known of "KHAN." This is the
highest echelon in the circle of secrecy. "KHAN" is considered highly sensitive
material that may be damaging to one or more parties. Betrayal of "KHAN" results
in severe repercussions.

2. CONCLUSION
Based on the above policies, there is probable cause to believe that the fruits
of this letter never took place. You never know when the SHADOW is lurking
around that cornah!
Posted by Allison at 03:49 PM | Comments (0)