Sherb Land

The Good Doctor

2009-02-20T10:47:00.000-05:00

. . . and so today, February 20, 2009, four years since the passing of Hunter, I sit at my desk and reflect, what has it all meant for me? Why is Dr. Hunter S. Thompson the North on my moral and spiritual compass? Why this unquenchable thirst to read and watch everything that he and those close to him have written and filmed?

I bought the ticket and I’ve taken the ride, learning from his mistakes and living by his words.
He is something far greater than the drug addled protagonist in the Vegas movie but if that’s all you know of him, then you’ve missed the mark. He gave a voice to those who were just a little off center from the rest of society. He taught you to do your own thing, to be yourself and to dare to be different. To ask questions and to never just take Their word for it. That you can be a patriot without having to tow the party line. That it’s okay to fight for the underdog and take the unpopular stance. But most of all, to laugh, to love and to live every second of you life.

“At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards.”
-HST

Things that make my head hurt, part xxiv

2008-08-08T13:02:00.001-04:00

If a male doctor specializes in gynecology, is he a guy-necologist?

Jesus Doesn't want me for a sunbeam.....

2008-07-25T16:22:00.008-04:00

.....and when I'm done with this, Buddha probably isn't going to want me as one either.

Jesus doesn’t like me very much. Probably something about me calling him, “just another stupid super hero.” I don’t know. What if Jesus could fly? That would be cool. He certainly would have been better suited to spread the good word. His apostles, or the J-12 as I like to call them, would each have a unique super power too. Here are a couple ideas I have:

Peter could be a shape shifter. “Peter form the shape of Simon.”
John would have x-ray vision and would wear really cool Ray Bans.
Matt, he would have poon power so that he could score with any lady he wanted.
Hmmmm. Judas, I'd give hime the power to become a back stabbing prick.

You want to know what the best part is? Okay, I'll tell you. If ever the Romans went ape shit J.C. and J-12 would form together into a giant lion, just like Voltron. Then they would eat all the Christians and go out for hot dogs after.

I think Jesus should have come up with something better to represent his body than Triscuits. Does the church still give out wafers during Passover? Chametz? After all, Jesus was a Jew, I don’t think he’d turn his back on his pal Chuck Heston, that fucked packed some heat.

If Kate Moss took communion, would she have to eat a Waifer?

Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies would be a good replacement. People like Girl Scout cookies, except they cost too much. At $3.50 Who do those whorish little bitches think they are? They’d better be laced with LSD at that price. But hey, what a great way to get people into church. Yeah, I'll confess if it means I can have a free cookie.

Do you think back in biblical times they were all kinky and shit? Did they role play? "Oh Pharaoh, make me your slave!" "Come work on my pyramid." That's probably where the Passover plagues came from, biblical STDs. Imagine that, some guy with a locust on his pecker and boils on her va-jay-jay.

Well, that's enough, I'm going home. Like I said, Jesus don't want me.

Un-natural History Museum

2008-06-05T16:23:00.002-04:00

Some of Sherb's thoughs while visiting the museum in May.

On geology and senior citizens:
"Why does the planet earth room smell like old people?"

On the cost saving benefits of pollution:
"You see, big industry releases CO2 into the atmosphere where it contributes to global warming. In turn, that diminishes the need to heat our homes thus reducing our dependence on costly home heating oil."

On Environmental Conservation:
"They're on the endangered species list because they taste so delicious."

On lunar displays and pop-culture:
"I'm pretty sure it's a model of the Death Star."

For the record, strangers did hear what I was saying, I made sure of that. And no, they didn't think it was very funny.

You'll have to excuse me now, it's the first Thursday in June and I've got to go and get my drink on.

Sherb's thought of the day.

2008-06-02T10:37:00.003-04:00

Shouldn’t it be Fiber Two?
I don’t eat the stuff so I can take a wizz.

Send in the troops!

2008-05-13T15:40:00.002-04:00

General Mills
General Motors
General Tso (foreign exchange general)
General Electric
General Hospital
Colonel Sanders
Colonel Mustard
Captain Morgan
Captain Crunch

Sherbviticus

2008-04-16T23:19:00.002-04:00

The 23rd Sherb

1 Sherb is my shepherd, I shall not want.

2 He makes me lie down in his bed; He leads me to dive bars.

3 He refills my drink; He guides me in the path of debauchery For His name’s sake.

4 Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Sherb art with me; His aviators and His pimp cane, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a barstool before me in the presence of drunkards; You have anointed my head with PBR; My tequila shot overflows.

6 Surely goodness and Wild Turkey will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in Sherb Land forever.

A Salute to the Colonel!

2008-03-25T11:08:00.006-04:00

Colonel Harland D. Sanders
Kentucky Fried Chicken Headquarters
In Kentucky USA

Dear Colonel Sanders,

Thank you for your delicious chicken. I was in one of your Kentucky Fried Chicken stores last week and saw your picture. It’s the one where you are sitting under a tree, in a chair, on the green grass, in front of a house, wearing your white suit, black socks, black shoes (they look like slip-ons) and black ribbon tie. Oh and white shirt. Do you know the photo? I really liked it. Do you sell them? The guy at the store said I couldn’t have theirs. Where can I get one?

I wear bow ties too. Not the kind you wear, mine are like the ones portrayed by Tucker Carlson, Pee Wee Herman, Orville Redenbacher or Karl Marx. Great men wear bow ties. I’m sure that’s why you do too but you should take a pair of scissors and cut the ends off yours, they make you look like a dork.

Are you a real Colonel? Did you get that rank in the Civil War? Are you a Lieutenant Colonel or a “full bird” Colonel? Or are you a two thighs, a wing and a breast Colonel? Get it, that’s chicken humor.

Maybe you fought in Vietnam, did you? You look a little like that guy Ho Chi Minh. He was like the Lord of North Vietnam. Are you guys related? Maybe you just go to the same barber? That’s probably it.

My favorite thing to get it the KFC Famous Bowl. It has chicken, potatoes, corn, cheese and gravy. Silly me, you probably knew that already, you’re the Colonel. I like it because it has everything you need and you only have to buy just one thing. You should mash up chocolate chip cookies and put them in there too, for dessert. Put them in first so you have to eat your entire meal to get to the dessert. That would help kids finish their meals. It would be like, “Eat your broccoli Jimmy and you’ll get to the Snickers bar.” It’s a good idea and McDonald’s can’t do it because if you put cookies in the hamburger somebody might start on the wrong side and eat the Grimace or Fry Guy cookies for dessert first and then that will spoil their appetite and they won’t be able to eat the rest of the hamburger and then it will go to waste and then the mommy will be upset because those things are starting to get expensive. But you can put ice cream and stuff at the bottom of your Famous Bowls.

So maybe you can send me that poster now that I gave you a cool idea.

Okay, that’s enough writing for now. I’m sure you’re busy with your chicken empire and everything.

Thanks for sending the poster,

Sherb
Inventor of the all new, "Famous Bowl Plus Ice Cream"

Look out! Death rays are here!

2008-03-21T16:25:00.004-04:00

I was disgusted when I read the headline, “Stingray kills woman on boat in Florida Keys, 75-pound fish jumps, strikes her in face as boat travels at 25 mph; ray dies” Yet another reason why must rid our oceans of these horrible winged fish. First they took the beloved Croc Hunter and now this poor woman. How many more have to die before we see the light?

Bleeding heart animal rights activist (code for people hater), Lynn Gear, says that, “Rays jump to escape a predator, give birth and shake off parasites, they do not attack people.” Oh no, tell that to Ms. Zagorski. Oh wait, you can’t she’s got a fuckin’ stingray sticking out of her head.

I call for open season on the rays before more senseless deaths happen. Maybe the Tampa Bay Devil Rays ball team need to be taught a lesson as well. If rays can influence Major League Baseball, there is no telling how far they will go for world domination. They must be stopped now before their power gets out of hand. Imagine a world not unlike the one depicted in Planet of the Apes. This time it’s Planet of the Stingrays. “Take your hands off me you damn slimey ray!”

Pop goes the weasel mother fucker!

We have to stop trying to protect animals, judging from this incident, they do alright on their own. Just a few short months ago, while attending a bull riding competition I was taunted by a mob of those PETA nuts. And no, PETA nuts aren’t the ones that look like sunflower seeds. However, I showed them a thing or two. Apparently their weakness is flash photography. You should have seen how fast they put down their signs when I posed before them, clad in a cowboy hat, with a cowgirl at my side.

Much like the poo of the animals they try to protect, PETA is all over, and their message stinks. Animals are meant to be exploited for the amusement of man. That's why God invented whips, cages and those things the lions stand on at the circus. Stop ruining all the fun things I want to do. I don’t need you there telling me that the circus is cruel to animals. If it were really that bad, the animals in Ringling Brothers would have formed unions long ago. Until I hear from Jumping Dogs Local 253 about the inhumane treatment they are supposedly receiving, you can bite me. Unless you have rabies.

“Animals are not our friends. They’ll slit our throat first chance they get. That’s why we must strike first.” That first chance will be the moment evolution give them opposable thumbs. I make my plea to all of you now, we must dominate and control these little fuckers or we are doomed to be dominated by them later! It's just like prison. As Rob Newhouse, Esq., my attorney says, "The trick is, kick someone's ass the first day, or become someone's bitch. Then everything will be all right." Well, I don't know about you but I'm not going to become some elephant's bitch. Guess that leave option A!

Screw you and your orangutan friends Dr. Zaius. Incidentally, he’s not a medical doctor, it’s only a Ph.D.

The brother of the victim of this suicide ray stated at a press conference today that this couldn't have been avoided. Oh, I beg, pretty please, with spotted ray on top, to differ. If all the animals were locked away in zoos or between two slices of whole wheat bread, grilled to medium well, this terrible tragedy WOULD have been avoided. Remember kids, the only safe animal is a stuffed Beanie Baby animal.

You know what, screw that, those damn Beanie Baby toys give kids the wrong idea. What are we teaching our children? That animals are cute and fuzzy and stuffed with synthetic cancer causing cotton? Won't little Bobby be surprised when that cute and fuzzy rabbit has him by the throat, blood spewing from his torn jugular. In agony, gasping his final breaths, you draw closer. His voice is faint but between the popping noise of the blood bubbles filling his young throat you're able to make out his final words, "But mommy, you said to be nice to animals."

You want that to happen? I don't, but PETA does. Animals are not our equals, they are our sworn enemies and must be stopped.

In closing, God really fucked up when he put wings and giant barbs on these bastards of the sea.

Killer Ray:

Waht sick fuck put her visor on top of the stingray?

Sherbbat Shalom Star Wars fans.

2008-03-20T15:00:00.001-04:00

With Passover coming up I thought I would share some lesser known facts that you won’t find on the Internet Movie Database. Friends since college, George Lucas suffered from chronic writer’s block and asked Steven Spielberg for help on the original Star Wars Trilogy. Uber-Jew Spielberg agreed so long as there was a Jewish back story. I know this is true because I heard it from my mom’s friend who goes to Synagogue with Spielberg’s aunt.

The film originally centered around the trials and tribulations of Jewbacca and his nagging wife Hannah Solo.

The Millennium Falcon is made by Cadillac.

It wasn’t a tractor beam, it was just Shabbat so they had to wait until after sundown.

Cantina band gained fame playing Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.

Luke’s aunt and uncle weren’t upset because he wanted to join the rebellion, it was because he didn’t want to be a doctor.

Princess Leia was from Long Island. What a JAP.

The game Luke and Jewbacca play on the Millennium Falcon is a version or Mahjong.

Darth Vader hated Atheists, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

In Empire, the Rebels weren’t fleeing Echo Base, they were just rushing because they got a last minute deal on flights to Boca Raton. “Oy, it’s too cold.”

Lando Calrissian is an Israelite

Jabba the Hut's dialog is Yiddish played backwards.

The scene where Han Solo was frozen in cabonite was actually supposed to be his bris but had to be changed to keep the PG rating.

The Force = Guilt

Taun-taun meat is actually Kosher. Ugnaughts, with their pig-like features, are not. Treyf!

Never underestimate the power of positive reinforcement.

2008-03-13T14:16:00.003-04:00

March 13, 2008

To whom it may concern,

Yesterday I had the opportunity to try one of your products for the first time. I must say, I was greatly impressed. Never before have I had the opportunity to use such a fine, well made piece of equipment in a restroom before. Without question, your hand dryers are a cut above the rest. The Nova #5, I believe you call it the Airline, is #1 in my book! I assume the rapid dry time is attributed to the 153 C.F.M. engine.

However, my only complaint and not one with your product specifically, is that as hand dryers begin to replace paper towels in restrooms, the consumer is faced with the prospect of having to touch that filthy, stinky door nob in order to exit. Without the protection of a paper towel one must wait for someone else to enter before exiting. It’s truly shameful that in this day and age some people are still adverse to washing their hands. Why is that? I had one guy in my office who just refused to do it. Everyone knew too. That’s why nobody ate his deviled eggs at the holiday party. Well, that’s not true, Larry ate them. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be boring you with stories from my life when we have business to discuss.

Have you considered producing a model that as it turned off, it would trigger a mechanism to open the door? You don’t have to tell me if you are, I understand trade secrets and wanting to have an edge on the competition and all. If you haven’t, you can take my idea. It’s my gift to you for such a great product! You could call it the “Blow and Go” but if you do, I want credit for giving you the name. Today it’s all about trying to find a cure for Polio or discovering life on Mars (For the record, I don’t think they have yet but they sure are spending a lot of money trying). Society forgets to reward and credit the common everyday inventions and inventors. I’m not part of that society. No sir! I give credit where credit is due and credit is certainly due here.

Okay, okay, I know I’ve probably taken up far to much of your time already so I’ll try and get to my primary reason for writing and then wrap up. Given the environmental consequences so eloquently displayed on your website regarding waste and paper towels, I’ve decided to do away with the paper towel dispensers in the bathrooms of my home. Of course, I’d like to replace the dispensers with two Nova #5 dryers. I’ve never encountered any of the problems you cite on your website about vandalism. Maybe it’s because I’m selective when it comes to letting people use my bathrooms. That said, you do make good points. Nobody likes to see those paper towel spit bombs stuck to the mirror or a commode jammed up with toweling. Especially when you really have to go. Since I require all my guests to wash their hands their wouldn’t be any need to use a paper towel to open the door because only clean hand would be touching the door nob. I installed a little sign that says, “Guests must wash their hands.” so that way they know that it is a requirement of mine. I know what you’re probably thinking at this point, “Why would this guy have paper towel dispensers in a private residence?” Well, let me take a moment to answer that for you. I’m eccentric like that. Plus, the paper towel allows everyone to feel like an individual. It’s good for people to be able to express themselves. Some would argue that communal hand towels are the work of Socialists. I don’t know, maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. I don’t get involved in politics.

So, do you sell directly to home owners? If not, what retail outlets stock your products? I have a Home Depot nearby if that helps.

Thank you for your time. I’m sure it is very valuable since you are on the cutting edge of technology. I look forward to hearing your response.

With warm regards,

Sherb
Your number #1 and #2 fan (get it?)
and inventor of the Blow and Go

Client #9....The Predator.

2008-03-10T21:27:00.003-04:00

The big Spitzer story broke only a few hours ago, well, at least a few hours from the time I started typing. To be honest, I really don't give a shit (see point #2). However, these are the thoughts I had as I was driving home.

1. Mad props to the soon to be ex-Mrs. Spitzer for not losing her shit right then and there. From the photos, it looks like she came pretty close. Just once, I'd like to see one of these stand-by-your-man politician's wives go all Jerry Springer at the press conference.

2. Eliot doesn't ask me where I stick my dick and I don't care where he sticks his....even if it is in a "petite, pretty brunette, 5-feet-5 inches, and 105 pounds," named Kristen.

3. He should resign. Not so much for what he did but because he was dumb enough to get caught making the arrangements himself. Isn't there some 3rd party Deputy Governor of Sin to take care of this stuff? You know, to get hook him up with chicks and coke and shit. I don't want some dumb ass who can't even pick up a chick without getting caught running my state.

4. Everyone one seemed to be so surprised that he would be involved in such a thing. Hello? First off, he has a penis. So don't be too surprised. Plus, you should know, it's always the quiet types, crusading for justice....blah, blah, blah.....that you have to watch out for. The louder they shout, the more you have to worry about.

5. In closing, I'd like to think that right about now his wife is chasing him around the Governor's mansion, bitching him out. It's a pretty safe bet, they aren't going to be in the same bed tonight.

History Meme, AKA, the Lifeguard made me do it.

2008-02-29T13:46:00.002-05:00

The Lifeguard tagged me so here is my response....

Gram Parsons
11/5/46 to 9/19/1973
The not so widely known founder of the Country Rock Genre

1. Despite having been born with the career handicapping moniker of Ingram Cecil Connor III, Rolling Stone Magazine ranked Gram as #87 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time. Rolling Stone Issue 946.

2. He briefly attended Harvard University to study theology.

3. Gram Parsons was originally hired to play keyboards with Byrds. Eventually he moved to the guitar and was...instrumental...in pointing that band towards country music. The culmination was a February 15, 1968 performance at the Grand Ole Opry. Most notable, they were the first bunch of longhairs to perform on stage at the Opry.

4. On July 29, 1968, just before flying to South Africa to perform, Parsons separated from the Byrds, not because of their inability to spell their own name, but because he refused to play to a segregated audience.

5. After Parsons’ death, road manager, Phil Kaufman stole Parsons' body from the airport, where it was to be transported to Louisiana for burial and in a borrowed hearse, drove Parsons' body to Joshua Tree for a botched dessert cremation.

6. Since stealing a body was not a crime, Phil Kaufman was only fined 700 smackers for burning the coffin. Incidently, Johnny Knoxville starred as Phil Kaufman in Grand Theft Parsons, a dark comedy surrounding the events of the dessert cremation.
7. Ironically, just a few months prior, during the Summer of ‘73, Parsons’ home in Topanga Canyon met a similar fate having burned to the ground as the result of a stray cigarette. He lost nearly all his shit with the exception of guitar and a really cool Jaguar.

Strangely, almost exactly one year ago, Gram Parsons was inducted into the Shertastics.

Coming soon to a venue near you......

2008-02-28T14:43:00.000-05:00

I’ve recently formed a electric zydeco band. We call ourselves Cold Hearted Bitch. Flaco plays the spoons, while Arlo and Lefty trade off between the accordion and the washboard, or as it known among the zydeco worlds, the frottoir. We’re little more than just a jug band without a jug. Myself, I sing and toss in an occasional kazoo solo.

The name is a throwback to my seventh grade teacher, who during my formative years used to punch my in the throat. I thank her for that now as the resulting damage has left me with a unique tremolo in my voice. Actually, I never called her a cold hearted bitch. It was one of her many boyfriends who first used that term of affection when he showed up drunk to our classroom one warm spring day back in the 80s.

Anyway, back to Cold Hearted Bitch the band. We do mostly covers, adding a zydeco twist to songs by Steve Winwood, Earth Wind and Fire and Nat King Cole to name a few. Well, to name three specifically. However, we make true magic together when we belt out Elton John’s Rocket Man.

Things have gotten pretty rough at a few of our shows. We do mostly small clubs in and the occasional county fair. In fact, last summer we traveled out to Coe County for a gig. I don’t think we went over so well as I can only assume they wanted something a little more country.

So I was saying things have gotten a little wild at our shows. This one time, at the conclusion of our first set, I started spinning the mic around over my head by the cord, it made this great wushing sound and the crowd loved it. Well, I must have been pretty sweaty, because that mic got away from me and hit Arlo square in the center of his frottoir.

Now normally one would think that you would be well protected wearing a metal washboard on your chest. Not this time. The cheap-ass promoter had us use the piece of shit house equipment and when the mic hit the metal something must have short circuited because Arlo, the poor bastard, got lit up like a Christmas tree. The jolt shot him clear across the stage and right into Lefty sending the both of them tumbling off the stage.

And that my friends, is the last time we covered any ABBA.

The price is wrong b!tch!

2008-02-19T11:44:00.000-05:00

I’m not much of a T.V. person, in fact, I cannot even remember the last time I watched something on network T.V. You can usually catch me watching stuff on the Hitler Channel, ah History Channel, or the Discovery Channel. There are also the odd-ball dark humor shows on AMC or FX that I’ll watch with the regularity of an 80 year old.

Unfortunately, my girlfriend has some bizarre sub-basic cable package where most of my favorite channels are scrambled. Often I’m left with having to decide if a particular show is worth watching through the static. In case you’re wondering, the static isn’t so bad if you sit off to the side. So this past weekend, I flip on her T.V. and start channel surfing. It’s one of those odd times, maybe around 7:18 p.m., when the news is over and there are only syndicated sitcoms to watch. Well, up pops the Antiques Road Show, and since it’s not on one of the static filled channels, it looks like it’s being broadcast in hi-def.

I don’t particularly enjoy antiquing, in fact, I think it is one of the most insufferable things I had to do with my parents during my developmental years. My motivation for watching comes from an entirely different perspective. What, you actually thought I’d come on here to tell you how I get my rocks off watching junk being paraded across the television? No, I treat it more like a game show. If only Bob Barker was there, “Actual retail price. . . . “ However, when I watch, I root against the contestants. “The price is wrong bitch!”

Yes, nothing gives me greater satisfaction than watching some dope’s heart break when she finds out the 1937 Mickey Mouse ashtray she has treasured for years is nothing more than a reproduction. I get even more excited and laugh even harder when the back story reveals that an individual paid some exorbitant amount of money at a garage sale for costume jewelry.

From my time watching the show, I’ve even learned quite a bit about picking out fakes. It doesn’t happen that often, but at least once an episode, a contestant turns out to be a complete loser, embarrassed for their stupidity on national television. Yeah, okay so national television equals the 26 people watching PBS at the time but whatever.

There is actually quite a bit of drama and just when it looks like my fun time will be spoiled, I learn that their winnings will plummet because of a missing part or a dent in their antique waste paper basket. “Had this been in mint condition it would easily fetch $250,000 at auction....” Then they cut to the contestant’s face, a face so full of joy and wonderment. I sit patiently waiting for the hammer to drop. “But because your antique dildo is missing the balls you can only expect to get $3.97.” Bam, fuck you loser! Ah yes, I live for those moments too.
The easiest way to differentiate between the outright losers and the so-so losers is that the so-so loser still gets the glory of having the little banner appear on the bottom of the T.V. screen with the item name and approximate value. The total loser gets nothing! “You lose!” “You win, NOTHING!” What they should get is a giant red stamp across their face, across the T.V. screen would be fine too, that says “FAKE” or “WORTHLESS” or even “DUMB ASS”.

When the contestant wins big, I can still find solace in the fact that they are so enthralled about their winnings that they fail to recognize one little caveat regarding the price. “It’s worthless unless you have a buyer.” Well, they don’t say it quite like that, usually it’s more like, “You can expect $x.xx at auction.” Short of going to Sotheby’s or Christie’s I don’t think Larry from Ohfuckme, Nebraska, is going to find many quarter million dollar bids for his collection of chewing tobacco tins at the local carnival.

The greatest moment for me in this week’s episode came when a woman brought in a bright and shinny copper bowl or something that was supposed to be 100 plus years old. Now this thing is bright copper which leads me to believe right away that it’s either not 100 years old or that she has done something to it to ruin the value. Why did I know? Well, you don’t have to have a 150 foot tall woman wearing a crown and a toga in your front yard to know that aged copper will collect a beautiful green patina over time.

At this point I’m on the edge of my seat, well, actually, I’m sitting on the floor, but I’m really, really excited. This is the part of the show I’ve been waiting for! “Have you ever polished this?” She hesitates, and answers “No” and I just know she is lying. “You lying bitch!” I exclaim. The host explains how without the patina it’s virtually worthless, my hands shoot up into the air with the same excitement I had for the Giants when they won that big super football game thing. But my moment of glory isn’t over just yet, down but not out yet she asks, “Is there anyway to put the patina back?” Yeah ya dope, don’t clean it and come back to the show in 50 years. I’ll probably still be rooting against you.

So Long, Fat Man....

2007-09-10T19:46:00.000-04:00

The world was shocked to learn of the sudden death of 71 year old, obese opera singer, Luciano Pavarotti, who had been suffering from pancreatic cancer.

During happy times.

Shown here in 1974 receiving his three Oscars for The Godfather Part II.

In the role that made him famous, "Asps...very dangerous...you go first."

More recently with opera fan, Borat Sagdiyev.

Play a train song.

2007-05-30T19:38:00.000-04:00

Life is like a toy train set.
It just goes 'round and 'round until it breaks.
-sherb

Kiss my Erasmus

2007-05-21T22:43:00.000-04:00

"In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."
-Desiderius Erasmus

But can he see with the one eye? I mean, it's the land of the blind. Whether you have one or two eyes they're all supposed to be blind. Supposing the one-eyed man could see, he'd have a pretty shitty kingdom, bunch of blind people running into the castle walls and each other. I wouldn't want that problem.

What say you Desiderius about the two-eyed man?

It's dusty around here....

2007-05-16T20:24:00.000-04:00

Has it really been over a month since my last post? Have I neglected my loyal reader? Sorry Arlo.
We have been busy though.....

I noticed that The Chairman stopped by not too long ago to leave a comment. His visits to Sherb Land are always a special treat, like marzipan, and greatly appreciated. It's tough to get face time with him these days. His physical presence at sanctioned JJ4 events has been lacking but spiritually he is always with us as we ask WWTCD? The answer of course is order another round of Pabst and Turkey and/or paint her blue with sparkles.

Speaking of missing quarters of the JJ4 pie, (I like JJ4 pie, it's yummy) Flaco, who has been Houdini* like in his disappearance, has a birthday coming up. Be warned Flaco, Arlo and I are coming for you. You can't deprive us of a night of debauchery and mayhem on the LES.

*Yes I know Houdini specialized as an escape artist but all the other magicians out there are a bunch of pussies. Flaco is no pussy. If Flaco and Chuck Norris were in a fight....Flaco would probably survive.

Okay, that's enough writing for now. I'm going to go find a hot dog.

A Gonzo moment on Sixth Avenue

2007-04-11T21:48:00.000-04:00

While walking up Sixth Avenue the other day I was approached by a member of Greenpeace. Clipboard in hand, he asked, "Do you care about the enviornment?" My reply, "Nope, I hunt and hate recycling." Sure, only one of those is true but the look of shock on his face was Sherbtastic!

Why I hate Liono

2007-04-05T11:29:00.000-04:00

For the longest time I’ve been annoyed at the very site of the redhead wonder dope in my office. In fact, I don’t even have to see her, just passing her oversized vehicle in the parking lot is enough to make me want to beat her with a sock full of nickels. For the life of me, I haven’t been able to figure out what made me want to drive 16 penny nails into her skull, until now. Sure, everyone has these sorts of people in their office but the odd thing is, she works part time and has little to no interaction with me when she is around. Did I mention she also has the intelligence of an mollusk? She tries to be social albeit her jovial hellos would give the Wilhelm scream a run for its money. I’m not alone in my feelings, I Arlo agrees as does my rotund impregnated boss. Another employee just out of school threatened to quit the job after seeing Big Red's work product.

As Ronald McDonald head passed my office door yesterday afternoon, on what I thought was one of her half days, I wanted to moan out, "Ugghh, what are you still doing here?" Which got me thinking, what does she ever do here? Perhaps it’s that lack of any redeeming value that gets to me. I wanted make her to account for her time, a list of her daily contributions. I'm not even talking about work related contributions. Hell, I wouldn’t care if she wrote down she watched online movies (which assumes she knows how to use the computer, she doesn’t) or made crashing sounds as she played with toy trucks under her desk. Do something, anything, but please try not to fuck it up when you do.

Perhaps in life these dullards are necessary so that the shiny happy Sherbtastics can really standout.

Lord, forgive me for what I'm about to write.

2007-03-12T13:30:00.000-04:00

Fat people make me nauseous. Seriously, physically sick to my stomach. I’m not talking about slightly over weight people. They’re okay. I mean the morbidly obese. The ones so huge that obese just wasn’t enough to describe them. The ones who wheeze when the try and do anything physical...like breathe. The ones who waddle like a mallard duck when they walk. The ones who have to use a cane just because they are too damn fat. The ones who need an extra wide wheelchair because they can’t walk. The ones who plow into you even after you turn sideways in order to avoid them in the supermarket aisles. The ones who load up their shopping cart with Ring-Dings and Oreos and who treat fruit and vegetables like Kryptonite. Those are the people that make me want to barf up my last meal. And in fact, in the past, I’ve done just that out of fear of becoming one these blobs.

They don’t even take the slightest amount personal responsibility. “Oh I have a gland problem.” “I’m just big boned.” Really? I’ve never met anyone with a 33 pound thyroid or a 75 pound femur. Try shutting your mouth for anything other than a healthy meal and I’m sure that your glad problem will start to shrink. “But, I’m addicted to food.” Yeah, well start by not buying that oversized Sam’s Club box of Yodels. Take a stand Tubby.
Seems recently that Starbucks has replaced McDonald’s as the caloric scape goat. “Starbucks should have told me the Double Frappa-Fucka-Mocha-Latte with whipped cream was 1001 calories.” “I thought it was just coffee.” “Why don’t they tell you the calories next to the price?”
Lard ass, has your brain turned to fat? You didn’t order a cup of coffee. If you did you would have said, “One coffee please.” You ordered some oversized dessert from a coffee house. Maybe Starbucks is to blame with their venti, grande and tall. Who the hell knows what size you’re ordering. Most places don’t even have a small on their menu anymore. They start with medium which is impossible. How can you have a middle size without having something smaller?

I digress, back to bubble butt and his Starbucks treat. Couldn’t you hear the calories shooting out of the whipped cream can? Whhhhhhhhooooooootttt. Did you honestly think that the sweet chocolate flavor was the byproduct of fruits and veggies? Think again wide load, it’s from that liquid sugar in the bottle with the fancy foreign label. People are so ignorant these days that there were actually news stories alerting people to “the hidden calories in coffee” which is a totally false, attention grabbing headline. There are no calories or fat in coffee. Think about it, coffee is nothing more than dirty water.

Now I don’t wish harm or an artery clogging disease on anyone but if these people don’t shape up God is going to take them out of circulation via heart disease and diabetes. It’s all about natural selection. Much in the same way that the morbidly obese have a difficult time reproducing and spreading their alleged glandular problems. For starters, when naked they’re repulsive looking. Two, they can’t wash well which leads to the production of stinky pheromones. Now, if by chance these two obstacles have been overcome (suppose you’re blind without a nose) God has one last trick up his sleeve. He was smart enough to place the main fat deposits around the midsection thereby making a morbidly obese person’s belly so tremendous that their genitals can’t get anywhere near their partners. A big butt prevents reproducing trying other unspeakable (I am typing this at work) positions as well.

And with that, I’m off to the gym.

white trash....?

2007-03-02T20:04:00.000-05:00

Nothing like sitting back after a long week at work and chowing down on a PB&J sandwich....paired with a glass of New Zealand's finest Sauvignon Blanc. I'm sure this is what those Kiwis had in mind. May as well put on some classic country music, oh wait, I've already got that playing.

Well, I'm going to get back to the bottle and my country music and try to forget that I spent 4 1/2 hours in my fucking car with today's monsoon.

Hugs and wet kisses,
Sherb

BTW, you guys should ask Arlo to post his letter to the DEC.

A fallen Sherbtastic.

2007-02-22T20:54:00.000-05:00

A great man once said, " I don't sweat on their time and I don't shit on my time." That man is Flaco. He could have been one of the great Sherbtastics for that very quote, right up there with my main man, The Rev. Jimmy Jones. I think of Flaco's words everyday, five minutes before quiting time when I go to the head. Fifteen minutes before quitin' time if I've got to go number two. Where ya been Flaco?

Speeking of the Sherbtastics, I'm going to add Gram Parsons. His love of the drink and opiates lead to his death at 26. But I'm entering him in as a Sherbtastic because of all the great nudie suits he'd wear. Like this one:

Plus, Ian Tyson once called Gram "a psychotic redneck" and best of all, his road manager, Phil Kaufman, stole his body to cremate in Joshua Tree. Of course he ended up fucking it up.

Well, I have to get back to my bottles of Pabst.

Hugs and kisses,
-Sherb

Buckwheat, the aftermath.

2007-02-05T19:40:00.000-05:00

Please see "Buckgram" from 2/1/07 before reading this.

Unfortunately, Buckwheat failed to respond to my email prior to the show so I was not able to duplicate his outfit for the evening. I did however wear my trusty homemade Buckwheat Zydeco t-shirt. It basically consists of a sketch of him running while playing the accordion wearing a crown and purple cape. On the back it reads, "Hot Tamale Baby" with a picture of, what else, a hot tamale, baby. It’s also covered in mustard, blood, beer and liquor stains from the night out after the last Buckwheat show. I think he likes hot dogs.

So Arlo and I get good and liquored up at my place before attending the show. For the detail oriented, it was Jack on the rocks served in Curious George jelly jars with Pabst chasers. A couple jars of Jack in about an hour had us more than ready to zydeco the night away. After a short train ride up to Times Square we hit the will call booth at B.B. King’s. For safety reasons, Arlo put the tickets under his name, rather than under Sherb. Smart thinking Arlo!

Once inside the theater, Arlo retires to the gent’s room whilst I procure us some frothy beverages. With our jackets safely stowed in the coat check, me Buckwheat t-shirt was in full view. A stranger standing at the bar inquired as to whether or not I had actually made the shirt myself. I answered that I had and that I wear it to all the Buckwheat shows I attend. He informs me that he is actually Buckwheat’s drummer. I quickly remove a Sharpie (all Sherbtastics should carry one) from my pocket and ask him if he would mind signing my shirt, which he does. The only part of his name that I could ready was "The Saint" and "drummer" which to me makes it even cooler. Before he has a chance to run off I ask The Saint if he would please tell Buckwheat that Sherb was here. With that, he was gone.

Upon Arlo’s return I tell him of my fabulous encounter to which he replies something like, "Get out?!?!" Fortunately, I have the proof. Several beers and a basket of chicken fingers and fries later Buck takes the stage. Arlo and I make our way to the dance floor and start showing off our moves. Remember kids, always switch from pints to bottles before attempting to take your beer dancing. Spilled beer is such a waste.

I can't really say for how long he played or even what songs, you're just taken up in the moment. Kinda like the way I write, I never go back and re-edit, just living in the moment. Anyway, before the end of the show I had managed to make my way up to the front of the stage standing just below Buckwheat, often times making eye contact with him, wondering if perhaps somehow he knew that I was the great Sherb and that if he did, would he get the hell out of there? I began to imagine myself as John Malkovich's charachter from In the Line of Fire. Sending cryptic notes, slowly getting closer and closer to my prey without their knowledge. Then it happend. The show ended and I extended my hand toward Buckwheat and he firmly shook it. Probably never knowing he pressed flesh with Sherb, at least until my next letter. The moment was magical. Jackpot!

Buckgram

2007-02-01T12:19:00.000-05:00

With the return of Buckwheat Zydeco to NYC tomorrow night I've decided to send him another one of my famous letters.

Dear Mr. Zydeco,

It’s me Sherb! How are you doing? I just found out that you are coming to New York City on Friday. Arlo and I are going to get tickets. We still love you. Should we go to the early show or the later show? I bet you rock at both shows. I think we are going to go to the early show. We danced at your last show in New York at B. B. King’s. Did you know that B. B. King was sick and had to cancel some of his shows? I hope you don’t get sick. If you start to get a cough you should take a cold-eze. They have zinc. Oranges have vitamin C. That’s good for you too.

If you let me know what you are going to wear on Friday I’ll wear the same thing. I want to be just like you. You’re the greatest in my book. I’m pretty sure you’re the greatest in Arlo’s book too but he does have some CDs by other Zydeco people like Clifton. You used to play with Clifton didn’t you? Was he a nice guy like you?

Well I have to go now. I can’t wait to see you on Friday. It’s going to be a lot of fun. You should yell my name out. Then I’ll wave at you. I’ll still wave at you even if you don’t yell my name. Remember, we are going to go to the early show. You’re the best. Take care Mr. Zydeco.
Love,
Sherb

My prior correspondence with Mr. Zydeco can be seen here:
http://sherbland.blogspot.com/2006/06/buckwheat-zydeco-chronicles.html

2007-01-31T13:21:00.000-05:00

Lorenzo Lamas is the Antichrist.

Why Sherb and Jim Jones would have made good friends

2007-01-18T11:29:00.000-05:00

1. We both like to wear sunglasses, even at night and even in the jungle.

2. I too have thought about moving down to South America to “get away from it all”.

3. We’re both cult leaders. Okay, so my cult just includes Arlo. Him and any other stranger who has read my blog more than once.

4. We’re both big fans of Flavor-Aid.

5. We’re both just a little misunderstood by mainstream society.

The Sherbtastics: Revised for 2007

2007-01-16T22:29:00.000-05:00

Arlo-
"I often fantasize about walking out of my office, driving to the airport, and spontaneously re-locating to the Florida Keys."

Hunter S. Thompson-
"I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed."

Johnny Cash-
"You've got to know your limitations. I don't know what your limitations are. I found out what mine were when I was twelve. I found out that there weren't too many limitations, if I did it my way."

Rev. Jim Jones-
"A man's gotta make at least one bet a day, else he could be walking around lucky and never know it."

Ted Nugent-
"Vegetarians are cool. All I eat are vegetarians - except for the occasional mountain lion steak."

Todd Snider-
"I make up songs and I sing. I really don't think about business. Maybe that's why things are going well. I just let them happen to me."

Johnny Knoxville-
"Once you commit, you've got to go and do it."

Holden Caulfield-
"I'm always saying 'Glad to've met you' to somebody I'm not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though."

#1 at making #2!

2007-01-16T15:51:00.000-05:00

I do most of my best thinking in the men’s room. That’s where I came up with these. They really belong in my little camouflaged book, which is simply and aptly entitled “Gonzo Guide to Social Terrorism” however, I haven’t the time to transcribe them. Besides, if I type it out, my co-workers will at least think I’m busy and leave me the fuck alone.

-Exit stall, stomp foot violently. Exclaim, “Boy, I was in there so long my foot fell asleep.” It plays much better if there is an audience in there.

-Upon noticing someone is using a cell phone in the restroom, begin flushing as many toilets as possible. The person on the other end of the conversation should know they are second seat (excuse the pun).

-Enter a vacant stall and start urinating under the divider towards an occupied stall. When they inquire as to what the hell you’re doing, reply with, “My bad.” but keep on peeing in their general direction. Monty Python fans may wish to use, “I pee in your general direction.”

-Wait for the person in the stall to exit. With your hands drenched after washing them (or peeing on them if you’re that sick) flick the liquid of your choice on them as they egress. You’ve got a good chance of getting away on this one as they’re going to want to wash their hands before giving chase. If they do end up following you out the door just yell, to everyone, “That sick bastard didn’t wash his hands!” With wet marks all over their front side they’ll most likely want to hide in shame.

Have fun,
-Sherb

A point to ponder.

2007-01-11T16:28:00.000-05:00

Employment: Purgatory or Eternal Damnation?

Sherb Tzu - The Art of Work and War

2007-01-09T14:41:00.000-05:00

The only satisfaction I get at work is seeing others suffer when they fuck up and get themselves tarred and feathered by the man. I’m a sick, sadistic, employee, but hey, it gets me through the day. To quote Kevin Dillon’s character, Bunny, from the 1986 smash comedy, Platoon, “I told the Padre the truth, man: I like it here. You get to do what you want. Nobody fucks with you. The only worry you got is dyin’ and if that happens you won’t know about it anyway. So what the fuck, man?”

Of course this isn’t to say that my capitalist detention center is anything like a war zone but there are more similarities than you might think. For instance, war has often been described as 90% waiting around followed by 10% sheer terror (whatever the percentages the gist is the same). Here we can have weeks of nothing to do but sit on our collective asses, only to be bogged down in the most inane crap the following weeks.

In war being a good soldier means following orders and keeping your butt low and shrapnel free. Unfortunately, people like Reverend Ralph here have yet to learn that. He rather enjoys defiantly preaching the word of God over the work phone while printing out unapproved and unedited letters right in front of the boss after she explicitly asks him not to. Like a good platoon sergeant, she is just trying to keep her troops out of the line of fire but occasionally you get the fuck-up Gomer Pyle who just cannot be motivated. Well, we all know what happens to the Pyles in our offices, they end up eating the barrel of that M-14 Rifle loaded with a full magazine of 7.62 full metal jacketed rounds. Proverbially speaking at least.
And like the military there is the occasional fragging of your own men. Be it the cotton candy haired lieutenant carelessly marching his troops into an ambush or the screw-up cherry, both of these individuals put the rest of us at risk. Well, okay, we wouldn’t dare frag anyone in the office. (It would create quite a mess, the police would get involved, all round just not a good scene) But admit it, you have an individual or two in your office who you fantasize about putting their head(s) through a wall? Or maybe pistol whipping them? Perhaps it might be better to just smack them in the head with a trade journal at the next staff meeting. Tell them you are trying to teach them through osmosis. Explain that you must continue to beat them because they have so much to learn. Or maybe a collective pelting with powdered donuts would do. These are the employees who just don’t seem to serve any purpose other than to annoy the rest of us by their very existence, not unlike a festering, puss filled, boil on your ass. If they are not properly taken care of, be it by code red or fragging, they are just going to end up maneuvering the rest of us into the crosshairs of upper management.

Your office mates, like your platoon mates become your closest allies, your buddies in the trenches. You’d place your lives in their hands, or at least trust them to cover for you when you’re late. They’re your source of motivation when times get tough and the boss wants to PT your ass with work until she gets your D.O.R. The harsh reality for most of us, like myself, is that I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ve got nowhere else to go.

What happens when you win all sorts of citations and medals? You don’t get sent off the front lines. No sir, you get assigned to harder missions. Special Ops. CIA type shit. On the other hand, your fucked up, yellowbelly, newbie office/platton mates get stuck on K.P. or relegated to burning the shitters leaving you to with all the responsibility of your new rank. In fact, they basically get rewarded. For them, it essentially becomes time off from any sort of challenging work or mission. Those of us with the chests full of medals have to stick our necks out once again on the bosses pet project or some other extraordinary assignments. Those chairborne, REMFs (rear echelon mother fuckers) get to sit back and coast toward retirement with the simple stuff and even then, they still manage to fuck it all up.

Man, I’ll tell you, I’m starting to wish I burned my draft card long ago.

Why....

2007-01-02T15:17:00.000-05:00

With the Federal Government shut down to remember President Ford, particularly the Post Office being closed, it got me to thinking. If the Post Office makes a first class stamp, do they also have a coach class stamp?

A new low

2006-12-08T23:50:00.000-05:00

It's one thing to use paper plates in an effort not to wash dishes but I fear I may have reached a new low today.

Rather than scrub the toilet seat I just bought a new one. In all fairness to myself it was on it's last leg.

Speaking of toilets, why is it that only employees have to wash their hands? I wish those stickers in public restrooms said something like, "Employees must wash hands before returning to work and unless you want to be a filthy animal, YOU better wash your hands too." No need for a side of E. Coli with those deviled eggs at the next holiday party.

I seem to have misplaced my balls.

2006-11-15T16:10:00.000-05:00

I apologize to my readers for having quoted lyrics from Roxette yesterday. However, it could have been worse, I could have quoted from It Must Have Been Love instead. What can I say, I was touching up some photos, iTunes was on random play, the photo, the song, my mood.... They all just came together and the post was the final result and that's that.

As per Arlo's advice, something from Mr. Coe

Country dj's knows that I'm an outlaw.
They'd never come to see me in this dive.
Where bikers stare at cowboys,
Who are laughin' at the hippies,
Who are prayin' they'll get out of here alive.
The loudmouth in the corners gettin' to me
Talkin' 'bout my earrings and my hair.
I guess he ain't read the signs that say I've been to prison,
But someone ought to warn him
Before I knock him off his chair.
'Cause my long hair just can't cover up my redneck.

The Road Goes on Forever

2006-11-14T22:29:00.000-05:00

Breathe some faith into my chest
Lay me down, I need the rest
Ever since the sky turned grey
I've waited for the perfect day
***
There's no escape for the broken-hearted
There's no return once you've lost your way
***
Blinded by a crazy light
I fell into the darkest night
***
Bring back the perfect day

-Roxette, Perfect Day

When a good time turns around, you must whip it. You will never live it down, unless you whip it. -Devo

2006-11-14T16:15:00.000-05:00

While hanging in the Library this past Halloween, (a bar on the LES with books, not a real library dumb ass) I noticed a rather large, 3' plus, finely crafted, riding crop on the ground. After trying it out on myself, I decided it would prove useful and stuck in my belt as if it was a pirate's cutlass. This thing was no simple Halloween prop, it's owner was into serious S&M. Well, a short time later that owner and her friends began looking on the ground for said riding crop. Like I said, it wasn't the sort of thing you left behind. Anyway, this was the end result of our brief encounter.

Note the guy in the Devo outfit in the background. Neat huh?

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

"I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger: A man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident." -HST

2006-11-01T16:19:00.000-05:00

The best part of last night’s Halloween adventure with Arlo and the Asset? Aside from their wigs? Probably the offer that was made to me, “I’ll screw you.” While most would think this offer is rather inviting, let me tell you a couple things. First, the proposition was made by a man. Second, the screwing he was referring to would be the result of the yellow handled screwdriver in his waistband being plunged into my abdomen . . . repeatedly. Obviously, this handyman did not have the Halloween spirit. My only hope was that it be a philips and not a flat head screwdriver. I’d like to think the philips would make a cleaner entry, cause less damage to my internal organs.

Street punk, he wouldn’t have done shit, all bark. Woof, woof, woof. His two friends didn’t worry me either. Certainly the peacenik hippies with me would have been prepared to wield their peace medallions like ninja stars. Ummm. Maybe not? Regardless, a quick geographical survey and some basic logic told me that real screwdriver wielding thugs don’t hang out outside of egg-cream stands. Unphased, we continued up the street never turning around. That’s what I get for dressing up and acting like a real life Jackass. Come to think of it, I’ve gone out dressed like that on countless occasions and last night’s behavior was far from novel. Well, the whipping from the leather clad dominatrix was kinda new but that's for another entry.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

Cotton Candy, Not Just for the County Fair

2006-10-31T15:04:00.000-05:00

A certain someone in the office, we’ll call him Cotton Candy Head for the way his hair sticks out on the sides, trapped me in my office to tell me about his difficult day. It really does look as if someone is pulling pieces of grey cotton candy off his balding dome. Now, normally, I wouldn’t mind someone wandering in to complain but CCH has a tendency to digress from his original point several times over. In fact, yesterday, Arlo counted no less than four digressions in relaying a five minute vignette. He makes my head spin faster than three consecutive shots of Gobble-Gobble 101. At the end of today’s talk, I come to realize that CCH’s discussion was little more than a thinly veiled attempt to get me to follow up on a month old offer to bring in half and half so he can use his space vacuum to make coffee. As I recall, I offered a couple bucks, not a trip to the grocery store, CCH suggested the half and half. Another month without a haircut and I’ll be able to jam that cotton candy comb-over right in your mouth to shut you up.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

Hello, I'm Johnny Knoxville and this is Halloween!

2006-10-26T12:05:00.000-04:00

When you see me this Halloween dressed as my hero Johnny Knoxville, please don’t kick me in the balls. Actually, if you happen to see the real Johnny Knoxville, don’t kick him in the balls either, he doesn't like it. I’m seriously considering purchasing a cup for the evening. Sure with all the beer it might be hard to take a piss (excuse my vernacular) but I'm quite certain the added protection will be worth it. I fear Arlo is going to attempt to prove to others I’m the real Knoxville by having them beat me senseless about the testicular area. Certainly a trick but by no means a treat.

A New Dilemma

2006-10-26T09:38:00.000-04:00

Is it better to feel pain, grief, sadness?
To be self loathing, feel the fear, give in to the thoughts to be self injurious?
At least I would be able to feel something.

The dull mind numbing sensation that has taken over my body is unnerving.
It’s as if there is nothing more than a broken, empty shell left behind.
I’m beginning to understand their plight more and more for it has become my own.

-Me

Gaius Sherbus Caesar

2006-10-25T11:52:00.000-04:00

Friends, Romans, Bloggers, lend me your eyes.

Veni, Vidi, Bibi! You figure it out. At least I remember something from all those years of taking Latin.

...and how are you today?

2006-10-23T13:24:00.000-04:00

I’m young and I’ve made some mistakes with my life.
And now solace for me is at the bottom of a pill bottle.

All I’d like to do is find the key to escape reality.
For soon I’ll be past the point of no return.
Becoming bitter, cruel and cynical with age.
I don’t want to be that way, grown up, old before I have to.

Is there nothing left for me here on this earth?
Heaven knows I’ve longed for a second chance.

-Me

Hit the road Jack

2006-10-20T14:34:00.000-04:00

"What is the feeling when you're driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? —it's the too huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
-Jack Kerouac, On the Road

A little inspiration from Jill

2006-10-17T23:35:00.000-04:00

RAINY DAY PARADE by Jill Sobule
Listen To It Here

I used to have the world in my handbag
How did I manage to blow it?
I missed the bus, I lost my heart
An an awful lot of mornings
I used to have the stars in my pockets
Now I just watch them on TV
My friends, they've all run away
But they'll come back again
And we'll have a celebration
Getting back on my medication
We'll have a rainy day parade

I used to live with someone who loved me
But somehow they ran out of patience
I regret those things I said
They were so uncalled for
Can't you see that the weather is changing
The dark clouds over my head
About to burst, I've seen the worst
Let it pour all day
'Cause I'm filled with good vibrations
I got that old sensation
We'll have a rainy day parade

You're gonna want me back
You're gonna let me in
We're gonna wash our sins away

Got the world in my handbag
Got my notebook too
Got the stars in my pocket
I'm gonna give them all to you

And we'll take a long vacation
We'll sweep across the nation
We'll have a rainy day parade
Getting back that old sensation
Back on my medication
We'll have a rainy day parade

===================

But for having a handbag, sounds just like my life.
Still waiting to get back "that old sensation" and have my "rainy day parade" though.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

Bee Gees = Brothers Glum?

2006-10-17T21:46:00.000-04:00

Trying to pick up my mood yesterday I turned to my iPod for something a little upbeat. I figured some pre-disco hits from Barry, Robin and Maurice might do the trick. Boy was I wrong. After listening I think I felt even worse. No wonder it was rumored Andy committed suicide*.

Take these lyrics from their "Best of the Bee Gees" Album.

Holiday-"Millions of eyes can see, yet why am I so blind? When the someone else is me, It's unkind, it's unkind"

I've Gotta Get a Message to You- "One more hour and my life will be through, hold on, hold on."

I Can't See Nobody-"I walk the lonely streets; I watch the people passing by. I used to smile and say hello. Guess I was just a happy guy."

Words- "This world has lost it's glory"

I Started a Joke-"Til I finally died, which started the whole world living, oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was one me."

Tomorrow, Tomorrow-"Where lies the man that I was, and the future that could never be?"

First of May-"Don't ask me why, but time has passed us by"

World- Well the hole damn thing is pretty depressing.....
Now, I found, that the world is round and of course it rains everyday.
Living tomorrow, where in the world will I be tomorrow?
How far am I able to see?
Or am I needed here?
If I remember all of the things I have done,
I'd remember all of the times I've gone wrong.
Why do they keep me here?

Massachusetts-"Something's telling me I must go home. And the lights all went out in Massachusetts the day I left her standing on her own."

To Love Somebody-"There's a light, a certain kind of light, that never shone on me."

Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You-"Don't walk so tall, before you crawl."

New York Mining Disaster 1941- I mean obviously here it's a song about a trapped miner**.
"Have they given up and all gone home to bed, thinking those who once existed must be dead."

I don't know, maybe it was just my mood, but I don't think I'm that wrong here, these guys are depressing.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

*Actual death due to myocarditis (inflammation of the heart)
**From what I know and NIOSH there was never a mining disaster in New York in 1941 nor in 1939 as the Bee Gees have said. 1884 or 1909 are possible dates or maybe those crazy Aussies got KY mixed up with NY.

New Look in Sherb Land

2006-10-12T22:29:00.000-04:00

If only brightening up your day was as easy as changing a few settings on your blog.
As many of you can tell I've been in a pretty shitty mood.

This has quite literally been my diet for the last few days:

I don't like to give away too much here in Sherb Land, I like to make you work for it. If you're a biochemist or pharmacist or something, then I guess it will be pretty easy. I will tell you that one of them is caffeine though.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

My Song For You by Shooter Jennings

2006-10-12T15:25:00.000-04:00

The dying day paints a portrait of sadness
Upon this lonely LA tier
Have I found a home, in this prison of my own
trapped in a borderline carreer?

But there she sits, In the store on 13th street
walking a borderline of her own
is she ever gonna know the way that i see her
when she walks into a room?

and I'm not exactly happy
about all of the things that I've done
I've made some mistakes and I know that I'm young
and I'm sorry if I've hurt anyone.
But of all the things that I'm proud of
And the places i've found in the sun,
the way I find myself loving her
is the best thing I've ever done

God knows its hard to let someone new in
when you're still looking for a sign.
but the harder it sits, the older I get
but the taste is as sweet as wine.

so come with me, skate across the dance floor
as i sing my song for you
but if you let go, i want you to know
that i'm saving my dance for you

and I know I've climbed some mountains
that I probably never should have climbed
I feel I've fallen farther and hit bottom harder
than any man with reason or rhyme
but if I only had a way to show you
how deep my heartache runs
and the way I find myslef loving you
Is the best thing I've ever done

And if anyone would have told me
that I would ever loved anyone this way
I probably never would have listened,
but now I'm here and i have to say:
that you only make me stronger -
I've never been more proud of anyone.
And the way I find myslef loving you
Is the best thing I've ever done...

Just one of those afternoons I guess....

2006-10-10T15:30:00.000-04:00

Dreams dreamt and dreams forgotten.
How much time is left before the night stars fade into the morning sun?
I wake with bitter tears in my eyes for I have painted myself like the frauds I hate.
I can see so much further without my eyes.
Feel so much deeper without my hands.
Hopes and fears, the courage to be fearless.
I try so hard but nothing seems to work.
Surrounded by people yet all alone.
Scared of going backwards, slipping away.
I’ll be okay?

I'm Still Here!

2006-10-04T16:00:00.000-04:00

"Call on God, but row away from the rocks."
-Hunter S. Thompson

Here is what they had to say about the Mightyman Half Ironman Triathlon:

"One word best describes the 2006 Mightyman: EPIC. A decade from now people will be saying, 2006 was amazing and for you athletes that were there, this is something to tell the grandchildren.

Three more words to describe it further: Challenging, challenging and challenging!
The course, the weather, the distance. What was best about the day was how it was handled by the athletes and staff. The list of people that made this event happen is very large. First and foremost are the athletes, without you there is no event.

There was no shame in not racing on such a challenging day. The people who decided to save it for another day were applauded for making the correct decision, surprisingly there were not that many. Out of the over 600 who checked in, a whopping 487 took off for the swim!"

There is something great about watching you competitors give up to be plucked from what was supposed to be a calm, flat pond. Instead, the waves had white caps and each one pushed you further from the finish. Then there was the biking with less than ten yards of visibility on slick roads, open to traffic, during an electrical storm. Or running through ankle deep water only to finish with a pair of mud and blood covered kicks. That's the stuff I'll remember. That's the stuff I live for.

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

p.s. My thanks to Arlo, the Asset and the rents for lending their support.

Yet another Gonzo race, what's wrong with me?

2006-09-25T20:24:00.000-04:00

Raoul Duke: "Some kind of. . . . Well, electric snake coming straight at us."
Dr Gonzo: "Shoot it."
Raoul Duke: "Not yet, I want to study it's habits."
-Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

The Sherb School of Self Motivaton

2006-09-25T15:59:00.000-04:00

With my Half Ironman Triathlon coming up this weekend (See Why Sherb is a Moron, 8/18/06) I sent Arlo the below email to which he replied, "You really know how to motivate yourself, Sherb."

EMAIL TO ARLO:

Just for kicks I entered "triathlon death" in the ol' search
engine. You don't have to click on the links, nothing special.

56 y/o heart attack during swim:
story 1

49 y/o heart attack during run:
story 2

53 y/o body pulled from water, drowning:
story 3

Lots of other stuff about deaths caused by dehydration and
hyponatremia during marathons and tris as well.

Sure, these guys were all "old" but I'm sure they were all on
top of their game......at least until that "Oh shit. This ain't a good
feeling" moment.

Return to Innocence

2006-09-19T15:12:00.000-04:00

I'll be brief because I've got a shitload of work to do here at the office and because I probably shouldn't be making blog entries at the office. It might be frowned upon or something. I wonder what the office policy on Greco-Roman wrestling is?

Regarding my last entry, a few days ago I found myself trying to balance myself while walking along a curb. Much to my surprise I had a huge child-like grin on my face. I'd highly recommend it to others. Tonight I'm going to try avoiding stepping on any cracks. Guess it's never too late to be a child.

On a side note, I've recently requested that my office purchase me a Scooby Doo flashlight.

The Condemned Man

2006-09-08T00:46:00.000-04:00

I feel as though I'm about to be beheaded. Down on my knees, arms tightly bound behind my back with thick hemp rope that cuts deeply into my wrists. I'm sitting back on my heals wearing nothing but loose pajama like pants. My chest parallel to the ground, my head down, waiting for the final blow to fall.

Too many sleepless nights. How many has it been at this point? A dozen? I try to sleep, I crawl into bed each and every night with the hope that tonight will be the night. If I'm lucky, two or three uninterrupted hours of sleep. More likely than not it's an hour on an hour off. There are nights I'm in such a delusional fog I don't even know if I sleep at all. The alarm just brings me from one level of consciousness to another.

I stare out the window at the street below contemplating life and death, sickness and health, love and hate. I yearn for a return to innocence. To be able to view things as a child again, absent any judgment. Where life isn't a matter of being right or wrong and things aren't so black or white. To be able to see life's gifts with fresh eyes and great amazement again. To see hope and possibility in anything and everything....

Free Refills at Big Boys!

2006-08-31T00:51:00.000-04:00

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

El Hijo del Sherbo.

2006-08-31T00:01:00.000-04:00

People have been writing in, "Sherb, we want more photos." Well, to those people, here you go.

During his recent trip to Mexico City, The Chairman was nice enough to think of Arlo and I when he returned with some fine looking Mexican wrestling masks. He said he tried to find ones that complimented our personalities. The above photo is mine. I think it looks like some kind of cross between Paul Stanley of KISS and the Insane Clown Posse. Surprisingly, I've worn it quite a bit, particularly during highway driving, keeps me amused during my long commute home. I've gotten some interesting looks. It's also fun to wear at the office. I made one of the secretaries tap out after putting her in a half nelson. Unfortunately, animals, dogs in particular, aren't fond of lucha libre and I was nearly mauled by a canine that I'll call Reggie. At some point I think I'll run a 5K wearing it.

Okay, I'm going to go listen to some James Brown now.

I got a bag of my own

Now, baby
Stop all that gabbing
We don't need
No backstabbing

Come take
Take care of all of mine
My good stuff

You know I'm grown
I've got a bag of my own

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

Bailar: bailo, bailas, baila, bailamos, bailan.

2006-08-30T13:45:00.000-04:00

Or it could just as easily be called, Dirty Dancing, Stamford Nights.

Some time ago, Arlo, Flaco, and Sherb decided to hit the streets of Stamford, CT. Why go to Stamford? The open bar and free food special at the Thirsty Turtle, of course. For better or worse, the trio, failed to take advantage of the numerous food platters and stuck close to the open bar. A few Kettle One and Tonics later (sadly no straight alcohol drinks) and Sherb was rockin’ ‘n’ rollin’ out on the dance floor. When Flaco suggested a change of venue to the more swanky Cafe Madrid, a Latin dancing lounge, Sherb was primed and ready to go.

Now if there is one thing Sherb learned that night, it is that his skinny ass can’t go out without wearing a belt. Allow me explain. Upon walking in to this upscale establishment, Arlo and Sherb manage to catch the bouncer’s ire by wearing Chucks. Sherb also managed a second strike in being a gringo who can’t dance but that has never stopped the boy before.

Arlo, Flaco and his lady friends wandered over to the bar while Sherb headed directly out onto the dark and mostly empty dance floor. His arms raised as if he was Tangoing with someone, Sherb did circles around the few couples that were there. Two, three, four laps and Sherb came in for a pit stop at the bar. After grabbing a Kettle One rocks with a twist of lime and getting a few encouraging words from Flaco, he was off again, this time Tangoing with his drink. That’s when he first noticed in the darkness, an entire other half of the lounge complete with bar. Being inquisitive he used his Sherbtastic powers to jump up the single step into the darkened room. Upon noticing this area was closed for the evening he spun around a pillar and jumped off the step back onto the dance floor. That’s when it happened.

The force of the landing caused Sherb’s beltless jeans to slide down his legs exposing his colorful boxers. Hardly embarrassed, he hiked them up thinking nobody had noticed and continued with his far from graceful dance routine. However, one person did notice, the bouncer who came over and issued a stern warning. Unphased, Sherb continued with his gyrations paying no mind to the belt situation. Returning to the bar, he explained his predicament and demonstrated his loose fitting pants to the others. After a few more sips of his Kettle One and some mumbled words he was off for the adjacent darkened corner.

It wasn’t long before his next bout of dance moves shook his pants loose again. Down they went. No sooner did he get them up than the rather large and imposing bouncer was on his way over for a second and what would surely be a final time. Grabbed by the scruff of his neck, Sherb, tried in vein to walk out on his own two feet. Unfortunately, he was lifted, certainly not by his belt, a few inches above the ground to the point where his toes delicately danced across the ground in a failed attempt to gain a traction and slow his exit. As he proceeded past Arlo and Flaco at the bar, Sherb turned to the bouncer and in a friendly voice asked, “Oh, we’re leaving now?”

Out the front door and into the rain they went but that wasn’t far enough for the bouncer. He made a sharp left and marched Sherb, who was still trying to hit the breaks as if he was riding a pair of Rollerblades, down several store fronts. Realizing he had gone far enough for Sherb to get the point, he dumped him down on the sidewalk. Depressed, amused and anything but ashamed, Sherb had broken out into a fit of laughter and tears. Fortunately, Arlo had noticed the quick and quiet departure of Sherb and chased after him. Finding his huddled mass in the doorway Arlo sternly commanded Sherb to, “Stay right here!” Arlo gathered the troops, then collected Sherb off the stoop and that was pretty much the end of the evening.

Why Sherb is a moron.

2006-08-18T22:05:00.000-04:00

Well, there are several reasons but here is the latest. I've signed up to compete in a half Ironman Distance Triathlon in Montauk October 1. For those not in the know, that's a 1.2 mile swim followed by a 56 mile bike ride capped off with a 13.1 mile run. I have no business doing this other than to punish my body for the sins I have committed. For some sick reason I feel I need to push myself to find my absolute limits of physical and mental endurance, like this somehow makes me more of a man, more Sherbtastic. As if reaching that point of life or death, that do or die moment, the absolute edge is really going to define who I am to myself. In reality, all it's going to do is make me sign up for an Ironman next year. Guess I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

"Buy the ticket, take the ride."
-Hunter S. Thompson

Sherb goes to the movies.

2006-08-13T21:37:00.000-04:00

Well, Sherb has been to see a couple of movies these past few weeks. The first of course is the previously mentioned midnight showing of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It should come as no surprise that I arrived wearing my Las Vegas visor and aviator sunglasses (not an easy task after dark but something I've become accustomed to).

Upon sitting down in the nearly packed movie house, the gentleman seated to my left, noticing my get-up and boldly stated, "Let's get down to brass tacks." I was pleased that he was quoting a more obscure line from the second half of the movie and knew I'd be in for a good time with my new neighbor. In unison we finished the line, "How much for the ape?" Much to the annoyance of those around us, the two of us laughed like buffoons finding humor in scene that most failed to noticed. When my new friend opened a can of beer I thought that I would be nominating him for a spot on the Sherbtastics. Sadly, he failed to make the list for two reasons. One, he never offered me a beer. Two, he was trying too hard to conceal the beer. None of the screwheads at a midnight showing of Fear and Loathing would have given a shit to rat you out. Too bad, you had potential my friend.

A few weeks ago Arlo noticed I wasn't my usual Sherbalicious self. He wisely suggested a bottle of rum and a trip to see Pirates of the Caribbean. That Arlo sure is smart. Taking Arlo up on the offer, I felt the need to really get into things and but on my best red pirate bandana and my eye patch (everyone really should have one, they do come in handy). Handing the ticked to the ticket collector guy I let out my best ARRRRGGGGHHHH! His reply came in a thick European accent? "Ooookay, enjoy the movie."

Why can't I just go to the movies like a normal human being?

Hugs and Kisses,
-Sherb

Sodomy and Gomorrah

2006-08-13T11:46:00.000-04:00

Now I'm not one to advocate wanton sodomy but if you happen to fuck up my commute home because you can't drive your car worth a damn then I see nothing wrong with having a hot tail pipe rammed up your bad driving ass.

Hugs and Kisses,
Sherb

"We can't stop here...."

2006-08-09T16:12:00.000-04:00

There is bad craziness all around. It's so thick you practically bump into it like a brick wall. Laziness, boredom, self loathing and neglect. Where do we go from here? No place but up I guess?

What the fuck is going on? Who are all these people I once knew? All tangled up an lost, no sense of self preservation.

Time to get in the belly of the beast and drive.

Fuck You Horatio Alger, the American Dream is dead...

2006-08-04T15:02:00.000-04:00

...and so are you! The once great American Dream is now unattainable and superficial. Willy Loman knew this and Hunter was never able to find it.

"And I never have figured some of the most basic things out - like what is gonzo journalism and what is the American dream. And shit, I still can't spell "sheriff." I think sometimes I really never learned anything much since I was fifteen. I know I have but I haven't changed much. And maybe I'm either an example of integrity in a person or the dumbest person around. I haven't learned anything since I was fifteen."
-Hunter S. Thompson, George Interview, Dec/Jan 2001.

Who needs sleep?

2006-07-26T10:53:00.000-04:00

As a few of you devout readers know, for the last several weeks I’ve been going to the 24 hour gym. What started as something to do during bouts of insomnia has turned into a social experiment and I’ve come to conclude that the gym after midnight is the new dive bar.

When I’m there I can only assume all the other freaks like me have their own demons to battle and reasons for being there at such an un-Godly time. There is no verbal communication between the half dozen or so people there, only furtive glances that ask, “Are you done?” Responses are made with nothing more than a grunt or a shake of the head. We’re all kindred spirits yet none of us will speak to the other. Instead we choose to isolate ourselves as if we were drowning our sorrows in a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon at our favorite dive bar.

Take us out of the gym and each of us would be that odd fellow at the end of the bar, drifting in and out of the shadows, speaking to noone, ordering round after round. We each crave companionship rather than the solace of our empty apartments yet we only go so far as to stave off the feelings of loneliness choosing not to interact with our surroundings anymore than we have to.

I keep the brim of my hat pulled down low, my eyes in shadow, an unwillingness to recognize and acknowledge myself in the mirror and I begin to ponder, who is this strange man at the gym at 1:30 in the morning?

The Edge

2006-07-10T21:46:00.000-04:00

"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."
-Hunter S. Thompson

How true my dear friend. Having slipped off the edge myself, let me tell you, there are some jagged rocks at the bottom which will break you into a million pieces. The only good thing is you get the chance to TRY and put your self back together. You'll never be the same person though. Which, when you think about it, is good and bad. I often feel at times I left a few things behind, down there in the depths of hell, like my sanity, but then again there wouldn't be this wonderfully freakish person writing this gibberish here in Sherb Land.

I don't seem to sleep much anymore so I'm off to the 24 hour gym. God bless the City That Never Sleeps. Now if only I could find a place that does a decent haircut at 3 a.m. I'd be all set.

-Sherb

Fear and Loathing on the Lower East Side

2006-07-10T21:21:00.000-04:00

No literally. Friday & Saturday, July 21 & 22 at Midnight, Landmark Theatre on Houston. I'm quite certain I'll be there Friday night with all the other angry Rotarians. I encourage all readers of Sherb Land in the New York Metro Area to be there as well.
-Sherb

And on the seventh day God created Sherb

2006-07-05T23:49:00.000-04:00

I'm sure many of you are wondering how I got this great name. Well probably not, but until you tell me what you want to hear about I'm going to assume you're all dying to know the origins of "Sherb".

Our story begins back on May 27, 2004 when the JJ4 went to B.B. King's to see Jerry Jeff Walker. For those of you who have yet to take in a show if you get there late you may be forced to sit at a table with complete strangers. Worse yet, you may have to stand at the bar......egads! This being like our 19th time seeing Jerry Jeff we didn't feel the need to get there all that early and were forced to sit next to some crazy blonde and her boyfriend. Knowing we'd be spending the next three hours with this young couple we introduced ourselves and began chatting them up. At least her, he looked like that dude from the Blue Lagoon.

We'll call her Kat, why? Because that's her name dumbass. Kat is what I like to call, a degenerate southerner. This is her:

Why is she a degenerate southerner? Let me count the ways....she has a beer in her hand, she's drunk, she's wearing my sunglasses, she's having way too good of a time with complete strangers, she's totally ignoring Blue Lagoon to be with said strangers, she's from the south, she gave me her number and oh yeah, she has this scar that you might just be able to make out on her right hand from receiving stiches after punching some chick in the face for calling her a slut.

So after a little banter we ask her if she remembers our names. She manages to get one of our names right but only because it also happened to be Blue Lagoon's name as well. When she gets around to me she has the totally confused look on her face and goes.....Shhhhhherb? WTF Kat? That's not even a name? What is that, short for Sherbet? Are people down south named Sherb?

Well, after the show we insist that she join us for beer and free hot dogs at Rudy's. It's only then that we learn Blue Lagoon from Connecticut isn't 21 yet. Of course this doesn't stop our degenerate southerner from partying with the JJ4! Literally leaving Blue Lagoon sitting on the curb, we go in for shots and dogs. A bathroom break and beer later we exit to find Blue Lagoon still sitting right where we left him. This guy must have left his ball in his hut at the lagoon because I would have told her to fuck off. We take pity on the poor lad and jump in a couple cabs headed for the Rodeo Bar where he wouldn't be carded.

Sure enough he got in and it was there that Flaco got a kiss from her and I got her phone number. Lefty was convinced she would have shown us her boobs for $100.

Weeks later Flaco and Arlo kept referring to me as Sherb and it kinda stuck.

There you have it. Did I miss anything Arlo?

Hugs and kisses,
-Sherb

An open letter to the recent high school graduates standing in front of me at the July 4th Belle and Sebastian show.

2006-07-05T22:40:00.000-04:00

In the board room the quiet man
Takes a second to think what to do
He's out of his seat and he's starting to speak
And he hears his own voice

For years and years he's done nothing but bow down
And put up with all their demands
She sits like a viper and offers the clock
Without giving a damn
He takes it

* * *

"Night after day after night i've been working
Despite of you fucking us all
Now I'm gonna die I don't care if you cry
Just please leave me alone"

"And spare those tears for yourself
We've had those 'til we're sick
You should leave while you still have the chance"

-Belle and Sebastian, "Take Your Carriage Clock And Shove It"

Kids,
You're on the carefree highway of life. There's no speed limit and the destinations are endless. You can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. No worries about what tomorrow may bring. Enjoy it now, summer vacactions, no job, no boss, few responsibilities and barefoot 4ths of July listening to Belle and Sebastian in Battery Park.

I'm so jealous it hurts.
-Sherb

The Fade Away Breakup

2006-07-03T01:19:00.000-04:00

Now I'm not exactly proud of what you're about to read but I know that Arlo got a kick out of it. For the record, I haven't had to use this "escape plan" for several years now. Actually, my last relationship ended over email despite complying with her request to call on a given day at a specific time. Ummm, hello, answer the phone, you picked the time.

When the hell did I download an entire Jack Johnson album? I like him and all but I have no recollection of ever doing this. Some type of iTunes amnesia....iAmnesia?!?!

Yeah, so I know guys like to say how the woman they are dating is crazy but this girl really had issues. Someday, maybe I'll post the emails she sent during the "breakup" and you can decide for yourselves. I'm sorry, but if my penis has been inside of you, I think I'm entitled to put my arms around your waist when we are standing around, you crazy psycho.

Without further ado, I give you the fade away breakup.

"[I]t takes time to do the no call thing without looking like a total jerk. Begin by returning calls when you know they won't be able to answer. Leave messages on the home phone when they are at work etc. Slowly start adding more time between returning calls until you've built up a several day buffer. Then transition the no call buffer to span over usual date nights. (i.e. she calls on Thur to make plans for the weekend, you return the call late Saturday afternoon when you state that you already have plans but would have loved to get together.) Then after several weeks of this you just sort of, as __?__ would say, "fade away".

Of course for it to really work and for you to come out looking like a good guy, you must succed in convicing her that you have been trying to get in touch with her despite the long gaps. You want to make it seem as though life has just been getting in the way of what could have been a beautiful relationship.

Bonus points if you can convince her that she is the one who hasn't been calling you back."

Fading away,
-Sherb

He died doing what he loved. WTF?

2006-07-01T23:28:00.000-04:00

If by chance I should meet an untimely death while running a marathon or racing my bike, please don't let anyone try and make my passing any better by saying, "Sherb died doing what he loved to do." Hey asshole! I didn't die doing what I loved, I died having a heart attack or being pounded into the pavement by an 18 wheeler. Now while I haven't had the chance to experience the crushing pain of a heart attack or being rammed in the ass by the chrome bumper of a Mack truck going 55 MPH, I'm pretty sure those are two experiences that I certainly wouldn't love.

On a lighter note, here is something that I enjoy doing, making a spectacle out of myself. That's me running in Central Park as the good Dr. Thompson.

Hugs and Kisses
-Sherb

THE SHERBTASTICS

2006-06-30T15:28:00.000-04:00

Hunter S. Thompson
Oscar Zeta Acosta
Johnny Knoxville
Arlo: My partner in crime.
Flaco: Currently on probation until his whereabouts can be confirmed.
The Chairman: For his useful insights into life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Plus, all it takes to be a decent person in his book is not to have sex with animals.
The Princess: For being able to retire at the ripe old age of 27.
Arlo’s father: For his simple declaration, “Gardening, such a waste of time.”
Free Mexican Air Force
The Man Cape
D.B. Cooper: Last of the true American folk heros.
Holden Caulfield: For his hatred of narcissists, hypocrites, the superficial and all around phony people.
Jay Gatsby
Dart Man: He never killed anyone, just stuck them in the ass with a dart.
Kaw-Li-ga: A poor old wooden Indian.
Arnold
Luther: A true mutant who stole from Arlo and I.
Guy at the bar formally known as Smithfields
Joanna of Doc’s
Tara of Filthy’s: Always had a smile on her face and our PBRs on the bar.
Rainy of Julep

Musicians:
Jerry Jeff Walker
Robert Earl Keen
John Prine
Todd Snider
Lyle Lovett
Johnny Cash, especially during his hardcore drinking and drugging years.
Willie Nelson
Buckwheat Zydeco
Tré Cool
Hank 3/Tricephus/Shelton

The Buckwheat Zydeco Chronicles

2006-06-29T23:53:00.000-04:00

These are a couple of actual letters that I sent to Mr. Buckwheat Zydeco.
Incidently, I was able to get a reply from his cronies. I thought you might enjoy reading them.

Hugs and kisses
-Sherb

Letter #1

Dear Mr. Buckwheat Zydeco,
I would like to invite you to play at my friend Al’s 30th birthday party. We
are having it at a place called Julep in New York City on November 19th. We
like Julep a lot. The jukebox has one of your CDs. We like to play Hot Tamale
Baby. It’s our favorite. We play it every time we go. One time we played your
entire CD. Do you know Mojo Nixon? They are pretty cool too. But you are
cooler.

We don’t have a lot of money to pay you but we could buy you all the pulled
pork sandwiches you can eat. They make them really good there. They come with
spicy peanuts. We like to order fries too. The jalapeno fritters aren’t good.
Don’t order them.

If you don’t want to, you don’t have to bring your accordion. They have one
there. If you do come, could you wear your crown and cape? We like that outfit
a lot.

We hope to see you at the party. It is going to be a lot of fun. If you can’t make we are going to get tickets to see you in February when you come back to
New York. We can’t wait. We wanted to see you on the Blues Cruise but I get
sea sick and throw up when I’m on a boat.

If you do come to play at the party, you don’t have to play the whole time.
Maybe just play three songs. Definitely play Hot Tamale Baby. We want you to
have fun there too.

Your biggest fans,
Sherb and Al

Letter #2

Dear Mr. Zydeco,
It’s me Sherb again. Sorry I haven’t emailed you for a while. Al and I really enjoyed your last show in New York in February. I made a t-shirt to wear at the show with your picture on it. Now everyone knows that I’m your biggest fan. Did you see Al and I there? We danced a lot. The show was really good. You must have been pretty busy with two shows in one night. We would like to go see other Zydeco concerts (don’t worry, you are still our favorite). We like Clifton Chenier but he is dead. Do you have any suggestions?

We are going to come to your show on May 31 at Irving Plaza. It used to be on June 1 but they changed it. If you are free on June 1 maybe we can take you out? Julep closed but we have other places to take you to. You can bring your band. They were really good too. I liked the guy with the washboard. Al says it is called a Frattoir. Do you eat hot dogs? If you can’t come out, maybe we can meet you at the show and say hi. Maybe you could sign my Buckwheat shirt? I have Wesley Willis’ autograph. He is a 300 pound man with Schizophrenia. He plays music too. He died so he doesn’t play music anymore.

Okay. I’m going to go now. See you at the show.

Your #1 Buckwheat Zydeco fan,
Sherb

Is it cheese or is it art?

2006-06-29T09:32:00.000-04:00

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
-Hunter S. Thompson

I just stapled Loraine's cheese to the wall. The office will never be the same.

Starbucks is the Antichrist....

2006-06-28T20:13:00.000-04:00

....and that bitch of a mermaid is the first horseman of the apocalypse*. How I would have loved to see her end up on a bed of ice at the old Fulton Street Fish Market. I've got to go and paint my hallway so I'll get right to the heart of it. It's small, medium and large people! Sorry, I forgot my Starbucks to English dictionary at home. At six feet two, I'm tall. A cup of coffee just isn't.

Therefore, sometime in mid-July I'm going to stage a protest outside of the Astor Place Starbucks here in NYC. To me that place is the nexus of the Starbucks universe. Did you realize there are three, yes three, Starbucks within like 300 feet of eachother? Anyway, I plan on having a little picket sign and a petition for customers sign if they want them to start using S,M and L. Actually, I couldn't give a crap-a-chino, I just feel like having a little fun this summer.

If you're interested in joining the picket line, or just coming to watch, let me know. I'll make sure you get the details on the date and time, which will also be posted here on Sherb Land. I've even got a videographer to film this little social experiment for posterity. Plus we can use the tape as evidence when the Starbucks hoods try and beat on us like something out of the 1999 WTO meeting in Seattle. Bring your own gas mask.

*By the way, I am serious about her being the first horseman of the apocalypse. The rider of the white horse is said to wear a crown (just like that smelly Starbucks fish) and represent the Antichrist.

"And I saw . . . a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer." Yup, conquering every block to bring you a soy mocha-frappa-whappa-choco-chino.

Hugs and kisses,
-Sherb

Face of the Warrior Poet

2006-06-24T22:49:00.000-04:00

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."
-Hunter S. Thompson

So what exactly is a Warrior Poet? Good question. Damned if I really know....Part attention whore, part entertainer, part sideshow act....100% original.

Maybe I'm more of an artist? Insomnia and insanity my muses and the streets of the Lower East Side of New York my canvas. Like I said, who really knows.

Depression

2006-06-24T22:02:00.000-04:00

See no....

Hear no....

Speak no....

One more mile to run

2006-04-06T21:39:00.000-04:00

What if this is as good as it gets? Right here. Right now. What if this is the high point of your life? The pinnacle, the zenith of your of your very existence. What if it wasnt? What if it was the bedrock, the nadir of your life.

Crash, boom, bang. Thats it. Your life is over. Would you be willing to accept that?

Would you feel fulfilled, satisfied? Would you be able to die without any regrets? Maybe just a few? Would you be able to say I did all I wanted to do? I enjoyed life to its fullest? I challenged myself? I pushed myself to my limits and beyond?

What would people say about you? How would you be remembered? How would you want to be remembered? For the things you did or for the things you said you always talked about doing?

One more mile to run.

Abandon All Hope....

2006-03-27T21:40:00.000-05:00

It may as well read "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" on the office door. I wonder, was Dante writing about hell or his time stuck in the office? Same difference.

Show up on time, sit at your desk for eight hours a day, five days a week and we'll give you a paycheck every other week. Seems easy enough.

One third of your life working. One third sleeping. One third spent preparing to do one of the other two. Doesn't leave much time for mayhem or merriment now does it?

sanity

2006-03-15T21:40:00.000-05:00

"The only difference between the Sane and the Insane, in this world, is the Sane have the power to have the Insane locked up."
-Hunter S. Thompson, "Kingdom of Fear"

I've often thought that deep down everyone is crazy. Some of us can hide it better and longer than others. It's that unique ability to put on a happy face and go about your day when life just won't cut you a break. The Insanely depressed are the true actors of our time.