Gooses

It is finally Friday. The weekend couldn't come quick enough. Mind you, this was a short work week anyway. It just didn't feel like it.

My staff went nuts and shit, talking about how insulted they felt because such and such got to do something and they didn't. Boo hoo, bitches.

I had paperwork like you wouldn't believe. Any entity set up NOT to make money is in for fucking problems in the first place here in America. Some people only believe in the profit motive, so for them civil service is for the birds. To navigate the waters and get things done is a miracle, if only because of all the paperwork you gotta fill out to cover you ass if you spend a nickel of the city's money. It's unbelievable how much of the same paper came across my desk to sign and re-sign for one single project. Then I had to chase down minutes to a series of meetings to prove that the expenditure was actually properly approved. Then the purchasing department hazes your ass. It's a fucking nightmare, says the guy with a masters in public administration.

Then it's the meetings. Everything's literally resolved within 12 minutes on average. Minus the small talk, what everyfuckingbody did that weekend, cute shit their kids said, good natured ribbing about somebody's dumb ass tie, the meetings would be 12 minutes. I've sat in meetings for the better part of 5 hours each 8 hour work day. If meetings actually lasted 12 minutes, I could all of them in one day and still have time to work on the shit I need to that come from the meetings. But if they wanna pay me to sit in meetings, fuck it. As a matter of fact, fuck that. I hate meetings. You can't pay me enough to enjoy 'em.

I'm glad I get to relax at the crib this weekend. TAD's coming here so I don't have to pack and drive. I will be drinking extensively though. Grey Goose and cranberry. Lots of gooses.

Peace,
KZ

Work Be Hard, Yo

When I tell you I'm trapped in a hellish cycle of getting more assignments and going to more meetings, I'm sure the absolute frustration will not register with you, dear reader.

When you're asked to go to more and more meetings, you get assigned more shit to do. The more meetings you go to, the less time you have to actually do the shit you're assigned. I'm in a situation where I can't even delegate work right now, because the shit I have to do is detail oriented. I don't trust the idiots on my staff with that level of detail. So I'm stuck. Paperwork piled to the top of my head. Shit is thick, yo.

I'm taking a break to write so y'all won't think I'm dead. Everything's still everything. Still getting married, still job hunting, still hating Satan's Anus, still not writing my book. Last weekend I came up with yet another book idea, but I forgot it. I was really excited too. That fucking sucks.

I'll write again as soon as I'm able.

Peace,
KZ

Birfday Wishes, X

Keep it moving.

Peace,
KZ

Why The Fuck Would I Be In A Good Mood?

Since 2008 started:

Number of resumes sent: 34
Number of interviews: 2
New apartments: 1
Unpacked apartments: 0
Times bad judgment exhibited by staff: 14
Times it bit me in the ass: 3
Average number of people to ask me about the wedding, daily: 3
Most days in a row drinking alcohol: 5
Number of overwhelming assignments, concurrent: 4
Average number of sexually active days per month: 3
Average times masturbated per month: 84
Average number of days worked per month: 20
Most good days in a row: 1
Number of times I've seen an actual ass in a thong: 1
Number of times I dye my goatee in a month: 4
Average number of headaches per week: 4
Weekly nacho intake, one pound bags: 2
Number of dress shirts: 27
Number of blue jeans: 2

Be Cool,
KZ

Miscellania

Big Hot Funky Shit Encrusted Mess

I was in a meeting yesterday and we had a "community activist" in the office. In this town (or in most towns, actually) that means a jobless or underemployed kook that has nothing better to do than bemoan the lack of Neighborhood Watch signs on his or her block. This lady represents her neighborhood in a paid position. All I've ever seen her do is smoke and eat. One time I came to her office to meet with her and she was sleeping HARD with her head on her desk, snoring and slobbering. She's a black lady with a short, perpetually uncombed afro that always seems to have a lint ball in the front of it. She has questionable bathing hygiene and a lack of coordination that couldn't be achieved by Stevie Wonder or the Governor of New York. Yesterday, her stankin' ass had on some manner of headwrap that would have to be seen to be believed. No, I didn't listen to the broad, I was too busy holding my breath. I have no idea what she talked about.

The Short Sleep

Is it possible for a man to die from boredom? Last night I could not fall asleep. I was awake until 4:00 am with the alarm clock set for 6:30 am. Reading boring shit didn't work. Masturbation? No thanks. My dick is currently chapped from overindulgence. Solitare, infomercials, downloading obscure hip-hop ("Come Take A Ride" from World Renown? Anyone?), nothing worked. It was finally when I thought about the prospect of another full day of meetings did I start to get sleepy. I cannot fucking wait for the opportunity to control my calendar without interference from the boss.

Human (The Shep Pettibone Remix)

Last Thursday, I was out with some friends, drankin' and shit. This friend of a friend who I'd just met started asking me about what I do. It turns out she knew my boss. So she asked me if he was fucking his assistant. I laughed. You would too if you knew the kind of corny milquetoast assed dude he is. But of course I don't really put shit past anybody, so I stopped laughing and told her I didn't think so. She told me about being at a meeting with the two of them and he was openly glaring into her low cut blouse. I really blew that shit off. I'd never seen him publicly acknowledge a sexual impulse. Not an offhanded remark, nothing, in nearly 3 years. I shrugged it off and didn't mention that conversation to a single soul.

So today I came in my office from a meeting with my boss and Auntie Anita was in there waiting for me to return. I asked her what was up. She said "You wanna know something crazy? I was in a meeting yesterday with Allan and he kept looking down my shirt." I laughed hard. Boy, did I laugh. Three years of nothing and now I've heard two accounts of horndogism in the span of less than a week. I don't begrudge him that. He's 42 years old and has been married to his high school sweetheart since 1990. Let him look. He just has to be a little slicker about it. At least now I know this cat is human.

Flat Randy

Randall will be headed to Cleveland today. You can look for his exploits on Monie's page at http://monieinthemiddle.blogspot.com/

Take some good photos, Monie. And don't let him eat dairy. He's lactose intolerant.

Peace,
KZ

The Case FOR Strip Clubs

How much is it worth to you to fucking relax? How much is it worth to the average man to spend money on a woman and have her work to entertain YOU? How much would you spend to have a woman pretend to be happy to see you every time you walk through the door? What's it worth to have a real live ass in a real live thong clapping in your face at your command, young fella?

That's what it means to go to a strip club. It took a long weekend of drinking, smoking and in general, thinking, to come to the conclusion that all my scorn and derision towards strippers and strip club patrons is misplaced. It's actually a beautiful, symbiotic relationship.

Those broads need and want money. Their asset? A gigantic ass/a set of enormous kegs. These dudes are usually in a home routine that consists of half listening to their significant others, ignoring their kids, and basically dropping off a paycheck every two weeks from a job they fucking hate. The wife, after a hard day at work, is not in the mood to entertain this cat. She's still busy at home. When it's bedtime, she's putting on some flannels, some giant fucking drawers, and a set of rollers. Ain't no clappin' happenin', Captain. That's where the strip club comes in.

For a fairly reasonable amount of money both parties walk away happy. Even if I don't patronize them, I think I'll stop being so hard on the cats that do and the women that work there. Both are necessary.

Be Cool,
KZ

I'm Finally Bored Enough To Write About This

So, TAD and I traveled to Vegas a couple of Saturdays ago. It was both our first times going to Vegas, and even though we don't gamble at all, we thought there would be enough other shit to keep us occupied. Like each others sexual organs, alcohol, and general debauched atmosphere. One out of three is pretty bad, yo.

Before we knew better

The accommodations? Extra feeble and wack. We stayed at The Luxor, which must be Egyptian (Arabic?) for Cheese.















They had fucked up elevators called "inclinators" because they went up on an incline. Just enough to make drunk people earl in 'em and to make someone going to a conference at 8:00 am every morning have to step around earl. Nice touch, Luxor. Actually the only good thing about it was the view of the mountains from our window.



We had a chance to walk down the Strip. The Luxor was at the end of the Strip, so the walk was long just to get to mainstream shit like Bally's or the MGM.

Two popular attractions: Cartoon, Cartoon and the Abused MGM Lion with hepatitis

Honestly, I didn't have one drink and TAD only had one. My mood was befouled by pint-sized Mexicans handing out unwanted flyers for poison pussy and loud, fat, stupid, unseemly hicks from every corner of the gotdamn globe. Hers was befouled from having to deal with my grouchy ass. Vegas is fucking filthy. I'm saying that shit and I'm from DETROIT!!!

Vegas is boring and gay, just like Siegfried and Roy

Honest to goodness, there were only 3 good things about that godforsaken town.

The Bellagio lobby, the view from the Venetian balcony, and the Wynn buffet and waterfall

Yeah, we got pics to show people so we can lie about how much fun we had, but we know the truth. I wish AJ had gotten a chance to check us out and show us the ropes, but I hated that shit as we explored on our own.





















Fuck Vegas,
KZ

P.S. The first blogger to send me an email at dabigplanet@hotmail.com gets Flat Randy. I tried to decide amongst y'all, but I couldn't think of a fair way to do it.

"Man, Fuck That Place!"

Randall and TAD, pre-trip; Detroit, MI

Randall, The Strip; Las Vegas, NV
Randall, Riding the bus to Fremont Street; Las Vegas, NV


"How come we surrounded by old people and Asians?"


No, Randy, you can't borrow a dollar.



Randy doesn't like EVERYTHING flat!!!

Me and Flat Randy did what we could do in that fucking wasteland of Las Vegas, but it didn't amount to much. He deserves better.

If there is anyone, anywhere in America who wants to take Flat Randy and show him a good time, by all means, let me know. Just make sure you post the pics and send him to another blogger.

Be Cool,
KZ

Pussies

I'm more reinforced in my contention that I hate not only my profession, but the people in it. The fucking meaningless jargon, the affects, the way they dress, pronounce shit, and stand. The aloofness and the know-it-all-ousity. The fucking brainless way our professional association keeps shoving "the important things" down our throats.

Another thing. I used to talk about this a lot to my colleagues, but I'd toned down my denunciations: most of these cats are effeminate. The women are...well, boring and icy, and the men any flamy and shit.

The conference is over and I'm sitting in the airport, waiting to crash into a mountain. I just wanted to post while this shit is fresh in my mind, and I'll wait to actually talk about me, TAD and Vegas. One thing I want noted is I'll probably be unable to eat at another buffet for the rest of my life.

Be Cool,
KZ

Sin City

As luck would have it, me and TAD are both going to Las Vegas tomorrow. We're both going for work reasons, me for a conference and she for training. So we get a vacation on each of our company's dimes. Nice timing, I say.

Sidenote: To AJ and BBB, I'm taking Flat Randy to Vegas. I don't know if I'm taking pictures, because what happens there stays there.

TAD is returning on Wednesday and I'll be there until Thursday, so you know what that means. Gambling in a tux, strippers, hookers, and coke on Wednesday night!!! Whoooo-hoooo!!!

Anyway, it's good to have a week off going someplace I've never been, even though I'll be in sessions all day e'rr day. It's good to be with TAD for an extended period of time too. Maybe I'll even get a change to partake in some hedonistic nakedness. Only time will tell.

I'll likely blog from the spot and give you my impressions of what's what.

Man, I really need this!

Peace,
KZ

Things You Need To Know But Nobody Will Tell You

• People resent the fuck out of you because of guilt. You just being around is a constant reminder of their inadequacy. There is no form of imitation or ingratiation that you can perform to make them forget that you are unalike and therefore you are inferior.

• Sex in and of itself is just OK. You should to understand how the things you do affect the other person and what brings you the most pleasure. Pussy or dick is not inherently good. You should pay attention to your body and learn about your partner. Lying there and making yourself available is not enough. In other words, learn to fuck.

• Boredom is a function of yourself. If you are constantly bored, you are constantly boring. Get interesting by any means necessary.

• Stop asking questions you know the answer to. "Was that stupid?" "Should I fuck her?" "Is this too tight?" "Would you have lent him the money?"

• Do not ever believe that someone has your best interest at heart for an unselfish reason. It all goes back to how they'll feel if they don't try to steer you in the right direction. So fuck 'em.

• There is nothing more attractive than a person that lets it be known that they are completely secure in being off limits to you forever. One becomes irresistible.
  

• You can have two dicks, one above the other, both 10+ inches and a billion dollars in the bank, tax free. You can have intellect, style, finesse, be rugged, adventurous, handsome and forever young. You can be tough and sensitive, come "off the top" with a flawless freestyle, sing like an angel, and play jazz, blues, rock, pop, and R&B on any instrument in the world. But you can always get your other half snatched by a toothless, half-witted, penniless idiot. Why? Because it's all about DIFFERENCE, not quality.

You muthafuckas be cool.

KZ

On Behalf Of Detroit

I'm writing this on behalf of the city of my birth, because in the many months prior to this, I've not seen one cogent defense of my city. People who write about it have never lived there or if they have, they've often lived on the outskirts of the city. I've had a 34 year history of living in the city and attending Detroit Public Schools for my entire K-12 experience. I've never been to a magnet school or otherwise "gifted and talented" program. I'm just a regular muthafucka with the majority of my life spent in the city's boundaries.

I've heard silly muthafuckas talk about the deserted nature of the city, the desolate nature of the neighborhoods and downtown, the economic abandonment, the political mismanagement, and the scapegoating that often epitomizes discourse in the city. I'm not writing to apologize for any of it, because there is truth and elements of the truth in all of it.

The City of Detroit is not the mayor, nor is it the city council. It is not the schools nor the transportation system. It is not the loudest person at the public meeting nor is it the homeless mental patient wandering the street.

Detroit, by and large, is a product of it's people. Detroit is this nation's id. It is unadulterated emotion and passion. I'm not afraid of the city. I am the city.

The City of Detroit consists of the largest majority African American city in the nation. It shares a border with Windsor, Ontario and is home to the largest border crossing responsible for the transporting of goods in North America. There is also the home of the gateway to all of the Great Lakes, The Detroit River.

By playing up the first part, largest majority African American city in the nation, there are hopes that the other parts are forgotten. See, the other parts of the equation make Detroit extremely valuable real estate. The longest devaluing campaign in the history of this nation is being enacted right before our eyes. The less value we, the owners, see in the city, the less we'll be willing to sell for. People with means will buy for cheap, and build value into the property we gave away for peanuts. Detroit is both not as bad as you've been led to believe and in worst shape that you've been led to believe, all at the same time.

I believe the mayor is a performance artist, creating a situation where public opinion will move to such a position that the only way the residents believe they can be "saved" is through electing a mayor that doesn't look like them. I believe that what we are seeing is the packaging of one of the largest land swindles in the history of the United States. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I've seen it close up. I've never witnessed such a willingness to destroy something that you claim you love in all my life, by all the "important" players.

I'm watching residents be willfully dumb, willfully uneducated, and willfully manipulated because they are too lazy to do their homework. Or those are at least the ones who get to speak on camera.

You don't have to like Detroit or live in Detroit. But know of what you speak before you speak on my shit.

KZ

Quaker Notes

Yo, I was awaken at 5:40 am by a violent shaking of my entire abode. I woke up and looked out of the window, thinking I'd see the footprint of a 10,000 foot tall Jesus coming to reap souls. When I saw nothing, I went back to bed. Fuck it. I'll die another day.

The thing about the Midwest is that we supposedly traded safety from earthquakes for massive amounts of snow and cold. Now I see that that trade is bullshit. Fuck getting snow and cold AND earthquakes. Why the fuck do I live here again?

New shit for me to hate. Ready?

Muthafuckas with honorary Ph.Ds insisting on being called "Doctor".
Whiny politicians. Male, female, black or white. You asked for this shit.
Apathy, entitlement and complacency in all its forms.
The fucking earth moving because of something other than great sex.
The Purchasing Department of any municipal entity.
People who act like that big fucking scar on Tina Fey's face doesn't exist.
Rumpelstiltskin.
Two hour drives to civilization.

Peace,
KZ

Punk Bitches and Declarative Statements

G'day folks. I'm prepping to enter another meeting today hoping it's less like most of my meetings. It won't be different, but at least I can hope.

My least favorite part of the meeting is the inevitable chiming in of "the smart people". You see, I go through most of these meeting shutting the fuck up. I don't wanna be there, I don't have anything to contribute, I'm here because I was asked to, so why the fuck should I talk? If I want to know anything from anybody, I'll email them. I don't need to sit face to face with anybody to get information. But the smart people definitely want you to know they're always thinking. They gotta let you know they've framed the discussion for you, to make things easier for the bosses and other less smart people. My boss is a good one for this shit.

"We're doing important work here and it's good that people want to work with us."

What the fuck does that mean? Actually, I get what it means, but why was it said? For what reason? To let people know they do important work? To let them know that people want to work with us? Or is it to declare that you have a big picture understanding of the project we're discussing? I think it's the latter, because that statement does ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY nothing to add to the quality of the discussion or the information sharing that's going on.

"We are focused on our goals and ready for the next steps, whatever they may be."

What? Man, fuck you. We convened a gotdamn meeting so you could practice your empty fucking platitudes, you bifocaled demi-male? I gotta get back online. I gotta finish reading some shit on Gawker. com

You can keep your framing shit. I'm too fucking lazy to be inspired by empty rhetoric.

KZ

Hooterville

When I wake up on a weekday here in Satan's Anus, I know one thing will happen for sure: I will be angry before I reach my morning destination.

There is no real "rush hour" here. Maybe rush quarter-hour. But that doesn't make driving any less stressful. There are several enemies I've identified. I hate Cotton-head, the bastard with the full head of white hair and wrinkles who is driving around at the crack of dawn for the fuck of it because apparently they have no place to go. Slow driving, two hands on the wheel looking confused and squinting because of the sun in their face. I fucking hate SUV Hillary, who feels safe in her quasi tank all the while making the world less safe. She's driving 2 miles an hour and when I eventually pass her, she's got a phone pushed up to the side of her face, likely talking to the motherfucker she's married to about some petty assed suburban concern of hers, making him regret that cell phones were ever invented. I hate Greenpeace, the slow driving hippie pothead with the Darwin fish plastered on his Subaru and his numerous stickers proclaiming his love for all things eco-friendly. Catch the fucking bus, you fucking burnout.

My unlikely ally in this trek is the NASCAR loving, pickup truck driving, flag waving, Calvin pissin', ribbon sporting hick. Those muthafuckers just drive. I can't complain about that. They apparently have someplace to go just like I do.

I drive on a 5 lane road, two lanes each way with a turning lane, speed limit 50 miles per hour. There have been times too numerous to count where I've been stuck behind a vehicle going 15 miles below the speed limit and found myself trapped because the driver in the next lane is driving DIRECTLY BESIDE ME with no cars in front or in back of him impeding his progress. I have been a victim on numerous occasions of people who stop DURING RUSH QUARTER in the left thru-traffic lane to make a left turn, stopping all traffic behind them, when THERE IS A LEFT TURNING LANE RIGHT NEXT TO THEM UNUSED!!! As insane as that shit sounds, it's not a rare occurrence.


Tomorrow, I will be angry when I come to work. And you'll know why.

Peace,
KZ

The Good Kind

The President of the Fo.rmula O.ne racing association is in a bit of hot water lately. M.ax Mo.sely, it appears, gets his rocks off participating in orgies where everyone is dressed in Na.zi regalia. The international racing world is aghast and up in arms about this fetish and is vehemently denouncing Mo.sely. Is dressing up in N.azi regalia a contemptible act in and of itself because of their atrocities? Or is it that he might identify with being a N.azi in some way that might make him reprehensible in polite circles? Or is it the overall weirdness of his fetish?

Everybody's asking him to step down and he refuses. I agree with him.

I've seen "mainstream" pornography that shows not only this fetish being acted out, but muthafuckas in Klan uniforms in interracial sex acts. These aren't new films, but at least 20 years old. These fetishes are no more rare than a S&M fetish. Both use a person's mind as the main sexual organ. The thing that keeps sex fresh is the idea of doing something that's forbidden. Regular sex is great, but if you wear a damn swa.stika armband while plowing your old lady, now you're a bad ass doing something naughty. It's all just sex. These critics are trying to play mind police. If he was heading up a Na.zi rally or espousing racially intolerant views, or harming someone because they lacked "pure Aryan blood", that's one thing. But getting one's rocks off is quite another.

If a black woman gets into a relationship with a white man and they decide they'd like to play a "Massa-Slave" game to get off, no matter how distasteful I think it is or how disrespectful I think it is to the memory of those who had to endure that terrible institution, it's none of my fucking business. Two people who have the same fetish have found each other and they have wonderful sex because of it. Congratulations you crazy kids!

People need to stay the fuck out other people's business. Your "sanctioned sex" isn't the only good kind.

Peace,
KZ

My Shit's Still Big and Veiny Like Gerald McRaney

• This dude, advice giver, perm wearer says to me after he stops me leaving a convenience store, says "I like your haircut, it becomes you more than that other style". Thank you perm wearer. Thank you for your compliment on my new hairstyle, perm wearer. I'll be sure to seek out your sartorial advice as I make other changes in my life.

• I spent this week interviewing potential consultants for this big project the city is about to embark on. The consultants are coming in to do the job I do, but of course I don't have the internal capacity to do it. My staff is too small and inexperienced. We had a large panel of stakeholders in on the interviews. Each of these teams had about 5-7 people attend the interviews. One of our stakeholders, after the last interview asks me "Are you the only Black person in your line of work in the State of Michigan?" I laughed. "No, far from it, but I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed." No, white lady, I'm not the only one, but hiring practices make it look like it most of the time.
  

• I wanna fire my cleaners. Every time I get back a suit or a shirt these days, it has shrunk. No, wait a minute. My bad. My ass is getting fatter. I didn't think it was possible, but it's happening. I think it might be a function of extreme unhappiness, caused by a lack of proximity to my woman and other civilization. I'll be on the track after work today. Fuck this.
  

• Sometimes I just wanna pelt muthafuckas with rotten fruit. Not to punish 'em for any particular offense, but just because. "Why the fuck you look like that?" "What you smilin' for?" "How come your woman's teeth so crooked?" I just wanna fucking inundate them muthafuckas with far flung rage!
  

Other than this shit, there's really nothing going on.

Peace,
KZ

I Know, I Know...

...I complain incessantly about the same shit. But I'm stuck in this fucking infinite loop, so you should be too.

I'm sitting at the city commission meeting last night, for no good reason. Really it's just in case some mental patient in the audience accuses you, as a department head, of doing something to them. Then one of the commissioners will call you out personally, and then the city manager will ask you to defend you self against some indefensible allegation, all played out on cable access for the masses.

So when the crazy lady jumps up and says "I was wrongly punished by the police for blaise splee, and neighborhood association is spying on me, plus it's run by crackheads. In addition, the president of the neighborhood association, Joanna Tisdale, is just mad because her daughter, Leanna got molested and now she's all messed up. Also, the chief of police is having sex with the judge that convicted me of wrongdoing, they colluded to have me punished. I'm a woman of God and I know that I'll be vindicated."

The thing is the chief in question was "asked to retire" a few months ago under suspicious circumstances. What do you say to that if you're the interim chief? I've been in this position before, accused of some outrageous shit by proxy at an extremely public meeting. But I've never been called to answer for it on the spot. That is the modus operandi for the city commission. They want an answer right then and there.

Luckily they let the rant go without asking for an answer, so the interim chief was spared. But what about the old chief, who lives in the community, who has to hear shit like this bandied about without an opportunity to have his say? Or the neighborhood association president? Or her daughter? If I was any of them, I'd seek her out and choke that bitch to sleep. Who the fuck wants to hear the truth when the lie is so sordid.

I fucking hate these meetings.

KZ

What's So Funny?

Patrice Oneal. Remember the name. Or don't. Fuck it. It's your loss.

I went to see this cat on Friday night at the little Satan's Anus Comedy Club. I went solo to the comedy club. Again. Like a gotdamn loser. Trust me, the alcohol helps. When's the last time you got CUT OFF at a high ass, two drink minimum comedy club? I didn't either, but I was close!

Anyway, I went to see Patrice Oneal because I'm a big fan of his Half Hour Comedy Special on HBO. It literally brings tears to my eyes it's so funny. There are a couple of places y'all might have seen him. He used to host the VH1 show that showed Web Clips and he was in the Cha.ppelle Show sketch "Player Hater's Ball" playing "Pit Bull". He's a very funny dude.

Once again I had to sit through the lame ass opening acts to see Patrice. Once he hit the stage, that cat was merciless. My sides were in pain from laughter. This dude's stand up is flawless. His insight into male/female relationships completely so on point, though nobody would ever have the balls to say so. It was honestly, without out a doubt the second best time I've ever had in Satan's Anus, the first being my last birthday.

After the show, he stood outside the doors shaking hands with the people who came to see him. This dude was easily 6'6". I felt like a dwarf at 6'3". I asked him about making his half hour special available and he said HBO had it on lock and wouldn't let him release it. It's really something everybody with a healthy sense of humor should see.

If he comes to your town, check him out, by all means.

Be Cool,
KZ

Vinceable!!!

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