Monday, October 07, 2002




This Saturday, I woke up and monkeys were flying out of my asshole. This made me have to urinate so I headed for the bathroom and who should be sitting on my throne but the king himself, Elvis Presley. I was like shit Elvis, you're alive!! And playing ker-plunk in my john, what the fuck? So anyway, we sat down to breakfast, me, Elvis, and Mrs. P. Surprisingly Elvis was not the fat bastard you'd expect, but lean and mean and ready to bust out some tunes, which he did. As soon as he hit the high note on "Hound Dog" though, he crumbled into dust, which was kind of a bitch to clean up, but shit what can you do.

Now all these events of the day had gotten me pretty much prepared for any eventuality, but something happened later that made all that look like a walk in the park with a french poodle named zazu. What would occur would shake my very fiber, make me heartily question the fabric of the universe and the order of the planets' alignment all at once.

Cal beat Washington.

Consider the following. Washington had beaten my beloved Golden Bears in football 19 times in a row, a streak of 26 years. 26 years. 26 years of anger, futility, despair, depression, angst, hatred, rage, alcoholism and dementia. 26 years and 26,000 tears. All eviscerated and evaporated in the most complete and excellent game ever played by Kyle Boller, QB for the more golden than ever bears of Berkeley, CA and former high school classmate of the Hosemonster. And even more insanely beautiful, the deed was done in Seattle, home of evil coffee and computer warlords who think they fukn run everything and suck ass even though I'm secretly jealous and thirsty.

The curse has been lifted. Not only that, but we also busted Washington's 17 game home winning streak up like a Tuscaloosa Alabama homecoming queen's cherry on prom night. That thing was obliterated. History.

Beyatch!!!

Oh yeah and the Raiders won too. Only undefeated team left. Raider Nation 2002. Kiss the ring.

After I heard the news, I thought what a shame it was that the king had missed it. I did a jig all through the house and hummed "Don't be Cruel" and offered up a silent prayer that the dead might rest and that everyone in Seattle could be just as depressed if only for one day as I was happy because ding dong the king IS dead, and long may he reign. FUK YEAH GO BEARS. Ok now if you could go back to your shearing sheds, we've gotta get 68 sheeps shorn by lunch time you lazy bastards.