"War" Did you get it majado style? Did you? Scuttle and hide in the deepest corner of the closet but nothing can save you from the dark cheesy hand of the Wizard. War! this is something the Cheese Wizard knows of. I am constantly at war with my arch nemesis Ritz, the cracker lord, Him and his subjects who live on his land. Those who "live on the Ritz". We will always be at war although I am truly most powerful. For what would he be without the cheese? I see this is also the same in your world. War mongers fight for every scrap by tooth, nail, and claw."Ugh", eloquently states Bruno the Neanderthal, " Me want food. Me want good cave in good neighborhood. Me want beautiful she-woman." This was fine and good until Gunthar from the Tic-Tic tribe, who wanted the same things, smashed Bruno’s head in with a club. And war was invented. Are you discontented? Well you don’t need to go as far as some east/west coast rapper battle in north/south Korea. In fact you don’t need to look past your own lawn (if you’re rich enough to own one). War at home? A tiger? In Africa? Unbelievable you say as it’s teeth sink further into your skin. The suburban sprawl of prestige that comes from SUVs, honor students, and windowed work desks sharply differ from the bowery bum shuffle of sucking the marrow from the rotting pork chop of life. The class war is a never-ending struggle. So stay in school because they’ll be a quiz later. You might not even see it coming. One day you’ll say," Hey man that was the best joint I ever smoked. How far is 7-Eleven. I want some Funyuns." to "I don’t think that my desk is ergonomically sound. What number do I call for help." How do you fight it? Simply don’t forget where you came from: Drinking 40 ounces of 8-Ball, throwing up in someone’s shoes at a party, and starting a fight with a guy that is 6`5" who looks like Tony Soprano while you are only 5`8". But let me change the subject as I do know some Ex-Teenage Rebels who gave up the glamorous life of squatting to live the Elmer J. Fudd`s millionaire dream of owning a mansion and a yacht. "Ayee", screams the Muslim zealot with his bloodcurdling, Xena-esque, war cry. "Religious wars, no reason why, what a glorious way to die." Damn do these crazy religious fanatics listen to the Subhumans too? Maybe they’re not all bad. There is just one thing that has been bothering me. "Young Alhaklalabad if you fight the holy fight against the infidels then you will enjoy all the riches in your next life", said the wild eye Ayatollah. Wait a minute let me get this right. If you fight the McDonald strewn foreigners in a holy Jihad and you die then you’re gonna get 30 virgins? huh? (Does someone want to buy some Swampland in Florida?) So I guess essentially these bomb-strapped bravados all want to go to the great Playboy Mansion in the sky. Where the women will probably all be tall blonds with silicone implants. Hey here’s a hint: Stop the stupid killings, pack up your oil fields, and move to sunny Thousand Oaks (the porn capital of the world). Make love not war, I know you’ve heard it before. In closing maybe I’m just another jaded fool but broken bottles under children’s feet and bodies strewn across a dead end street ain`t no way to live. Let’s fight over something that matters like soccer, you gas guzzling idiots. By the way gas comes from dinosaurs that don’t exist according to bible theologians. Hypocrisy in our religion? Nah it couldn’t happen. This was just another history lesson from the Wizard. 

I don’t understand, well, a lot of things. I’m not afraid to admit that some things don’t make sense to me; if I’m ignorant of something it’s ok. I can only know so much. Now then, if there was something that I thought I understood and then realized it didn’t really make sense then I’m confused. When someone says the words “vegan cheese” I get really bent out of shape. It’s NOT cheese; it’s some soything that may to someone that has not imbibed the cheesy goodness for such a long time have some vague recollections of what cheese tasted like. You insult the cheese by putting the word vegan next to it. How dare you adulterate cheese by putting that trendy dietary catch phrase NEXT to the word cheese. Really, I’m glad there are vegans in this world because that means more cheese for me. What I do understand is vegans always talk about food. Every vegan I’ve ever met is obsessed with food. Why? Because they’re not allowed to have any. Vegan pastrami? Please… if you miss meat so much that you have to label something that tastes like cardboard covered with bb-q sauce “pastrami” then just go ahead and eat the real deal. Not eating meat or cheese does not put you on a higher moral plateau than everyone else. You can lie, cheat and steal, be an awful person and be vegan. Hitler was a vegetarian after all. I don’t understand all the weird nationalistic pride that people have for their home county that they no longer live in. If wherever the fuck was so great, then why did you move here? I don’t get that. I’m sure it was wonderful, everything was wonderful, and beautiful, and wonderful, and nice. So wonderful and beautiful and nice that you left. I like talking to foreigners and asking them why they moved here and if they like it or not. I was born out here, so I know why I’m here, hell I like living in Reseda. Almost none of them like it here. Well, then go home already. I’m not anti-immigrant. I’m only second generation native born. But if you come here at least act like you want to be here. Why would you move to a new country and then only associate with others that came from where you came from? It’s like the Diet Coke of the USA, just one calorie. Wouldn’t you want to get to know the people that are native, get into native customs, you know be an American if you moved here? You go to a movie, you get some popcorn, perhaps some nachos, one gets into the sprit of things. I’m not saying abandon your previous culture, but you’re in a new amusement park and the Mickey Mouse ears simply won’t do. It’s not like our government is kidnapping your ass to come here and clog up the freeway system and stock up on close-outs on outdated clothing trends. I mean really, I’d never go to Europe, it’s full of Europeans. Fuck that place. It’s old and smells and you’re near the French and Italian pizza can’t hold a candle to the pizza here. Why leave? But then here I am and I deal with a lot of these red-blooded American types and they can really suck too. I broker in bicycles, most bikes come from China and Taiwan. People exclaim “Made in China!” Made in Taiwan!” “China!” “Taiwan!” As if it were a bad thing. A guy in China can weld too you know. If the bikes were made here it would cost three times as much and break twice as fast. Why? Because your average American is lazy. Perhaps we’ve had things good for so long that we no longer remember what it was like to have to work for anything. Just like a vegan has vague recollections of what cheese tastes like, Native Americans have vague recollections of what it was like to toil.  I talk to lots of people, I’m curious as to what drives each of us, I ask questions. The response is general discontent. People are not happy; perhaps it’s cultural. Discontent is the norm; happiness is but a snapshot in the photo album of life. No one has enough money, time, and friends, love, nice things etc. I think people are bored and disaffected, they look for weird ways to identify with each other, and they need hobbies. This is why people glom onto fictional cultural identities. If you’re born here and are second generation or older born here then you’re a mutt-end of story. Saying you’re German, Irish, whatever does not make you cool, it makes you a clod because that’s all you have to make yourself appear interesting. That tribal tattoo seemed like a good idea at the time, what tribe was that again? Encino? Right.                                           . I have given a lot of thought to what people need to cheer them up and I think we need a war. What’s that? We’re already at war? Don’t be silly, that thing going on over in Iraq is a scuffle if you want to count numbers of dead in that conflict to say automobile deaths every year. In fact less life is lost per 100,000 people on our side over there than many major US cities. That means it’s safer to be in Iraq than be in LA. I love LA I figure that everyone is moving to America we should just go ahead and do it, I mean in an economic sense we’re almost there. We should just conquer the whole world. We could take places like the Wailing Wall and put a Starbucks drive through window in it. We’ll put a Six Flags around the Pyramids, people can buy funny pyramid shaped hats at the park. We could turn Ireland into an underwater sea park. I mean they’ve been fighting to get it back for what, 800 years now? They must not really want it. Let the corporate juggernaught steamroll over the land and mash these dysfunctional cultures under the golden arches. Everyone is coming here, they all want to come to America, why not bring it to them? We’ve got rock n roll, hot rods, cheeseburgers, chili cheese fries, the first three Star Wars movies, the Three Stooges and what do “they” have? Golf? Le Car? White rice? We spew out more useless crap than anyone else. Where would the world be without plastic dog doo and fake vomit? Lost I tell you. We are the most sane in an insane asylum, so lets get crazy. I’m sick of this shit, I hate you all, go die already. Thanks.

B here- this one’s called, “Another Year Older, Another Year (Bud)Wiser. Well friends, as you are reading this, our July issue, my birthday (June 13^th) has came and went in the same manner most of your fathers did after they knocked up your mothers. So how does the B feel on the cusp of his 36^th year on planet earth (Rigel 5). More importantly, why is he (I) talking in third person? I mean, He’s (I’m) not Moses Malone after all. It’s weird to say it, but I feel great. I told Paul that I don’t know if it’s that I’m so happy or that most of the people around me are completely fuckin’ miserable. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I revel in the misery of those close to me- it’s absolutely the opposite, but when you are a constant sounding board for friends of yours who place themselves in bad predicaments they have no intention of  removing themselves from, you sometimes want to smack the shit out of them. You also get real introspective about your own problems. This usually leads me into manic situations (heavy drinking, drug use, compulsive fighting, and other such self-destructive behavior), but I feel that I’m finally at a good place- dare I say it? O.K. fuck it, I’m happy. I guess my chances with that (ain’t no woman like the one-eyed ) Goth chick are shot to hell. Just kidding, ya’ll know me by now and you know that I’m more into Bauhaus than Bauhaus. On the semi (or Semite) serious tip I’ve found the Fountain of Youth and have quaffed the elixir of longevity (roll on potion miscibility table, DMG pg. 119 Editor’s note PFD) (Franziskanner Pauliner Hefe Wisen) contained within it. I feel re-Jewvenated! I’m in the best shape of my life, I have tons of great friends, I answer to no one (except the dungeon master), I have no dependents, and I get my sex like my steak- medium rare, which is pretty good for a 36 year old guy who still plays Dungeons and Dragons and collects comics. I guess I could get more sex, but most of the time I’m too busy having fun to cater to the Narcissistic attitudes most women have. Being that I’m a B, I like to buzz around from flower to flower drinking only the finest nectar and stinging only those I deem worthy- my life is a Kamikaze mission after all. I’m not saying that it wouldn’t be nice to be in love again, I’m just saying that if I were to hook up seriously with someone they would have to make my life better than it already is, and my life is pretty fuckin’ good. Sure, sometimes my biology fucks with me hard and makes me desire female companionship, and if it becomes available, I take it. It never lasts too long though because most of the chicks I meet wind up having more baggage than L.A.X. I’m fuckin; neurotic, obsessive compulsive, and hyper-active already, so I don’t need their additional craziness. Please understand, I’m willing to compromise. After all, that’s what relationships are all about, but I believe everyone has a limit. We’re all bellboys (and girls). We date people and decide how much of their baggage we can carry before it breaks our backs. That being said, I will not settle for a substandard relationship just because I’m heading toward middle age. Settling is for pioneers and potato chips during shipment. Most of my married friends are fucking miserable, and they still pitch this idea of just settling for a substandard relationship to me. Fuck that, co miserate with someone else you bastards, I’m happy, and I still have both of my hands, so call me when and if I lose them in some bizarre accident. The only person who should marry someone they don’t love is a pirate with hooks on both of his hands. The reason for this is that masturbation with hook hands would be painful, if not downright dangerous.  Getting older is mostly a mental thing for me at 36, but there are some physical things that inevitably do hinder you which I will discuss….NOW! (1^st) I can no longer wear boxer shorts. Living in beautiful United States of America, in Particular, Los Angeles California. Is the greatest place ever. Fuck every other place in the world. They should all become parking lots. I’ll get back to more of that hatred of everything I don’t like later. Back on topic, briefs are necessary when the valley hits the 100’s +. If I wear boxers in that climate, I get tetherballs. I can literally smack my balls until they wrap around my pole.      
Back to the hatred. Fuck your country, I hate your false patriotism. I’m the son of an immigrant and the grandson of refugees. And everyday I thank G~D they got out of that hellhole called Europe and shat me out on American soil. I watch the world cup too. And I root for my country the U.S.of Fuckin’A bitches! Fuck all of those other banana republic countries. I’m a first generation American (on my mother’s side) and damn proud of it. If your so-called country were so great, you wouldn’t be here. After all, the truest display of patriotism is displayed by one’s desire to actually live in the country they’re proclaiming allegiance to . I’m not saying I agree with the government of my country, in fact, I never have. I hate Bush (even on chicks), but all those other gay ass countries in the world have had, and still do in some cases have even bigger douche bags than we do.  Ever heard of Franco or Pinnochet- of course not, you’re probably not even reading this now. I’m gonna’ tear off every non- American car flag I see during this World Cup time. Fuck Korea, Mexico, Brazil, and every European country too! Fuck you who are loyal to these shit holes! If those places are all that- live there. Stop having your children here (Catholics take note) and proclaiming loyalty to countries that would just as soon use them as slave labor or use them as fodder for war(s). The fact that you can display those flags and not get the shit beaten out of you by roving bands of club wielding hooligans (City random encounters, DMG Pg. 191. Editor’s note PFD) (for now that is, stay tuned, ‘cause if I stay drunk, I’ll probably smash one of these assholes’ heads in) shows just how truly great this country is. Please if you love your country that much go and live there. This place is too crowded to deal with people who would rather be somewhere else, and there is no shortage of decent honest, good people in the world who would love to be here, and be proud of their newfound American status as well. America has always been a nation of immigrants. That has always been its strength, how has it now become its weakness? A friend of mine recently told me that if he went to the World Cup, which he was planning to do, but it didn’t work out, he would not let anyone know he was American. Being that he is Mexican-American, he could probably pass for a Mexican National. He thought I was crazy for being upset with his notion of pretending to be something he was not I have heard of similar situations, where Americans pretend to be Canadians whilst abroad. He did relate that I would probably be O.K. though telling people I was American, because after 9-11, it became acceptable to display American patriotism ( for about 15 minutes, or at least until the Lakers start winning again, and American flags get exchanged for Lakers ones)..  Fuck that shit- no more patriot decay! You guys who travel the world pretending to be from a culture that you’re not should die. You’re posing harder than Silverlake. Wow that Sierra Nevada is some powerful shit! I just became the world’s second Jewish anti-Semite/ anti-everything (Hitler was first). I guess I still can hate myself, but I take comfort in the fact that I can hate you too. But anyway, my country can beat up your country’s dad, and we’ll just leave it at that. We now join the previous discussion already in progress. (2^nd) I’m balding, so now I shave my head completely. Lastly, I feel old when I try to relate to people born a decade later than myself. They don’t always understand what I’m talking about. I don’t blame them though; I’m just older than they are. I mean, I can remember when Sigmund The Sea monster, and Johnny and Scott were friends. Anyway, thanks for reading through this crazy alcohol-laden banter. I’m sorry if I offended your p.c. sensibilities, but please understand, as a Jewish B, I’m black and yellow, which means- I’ll steal your purse and spend your cash on Chinese food-Until der next time- B the Uber Jew

Recently within my life situations have been arising where I have been needing to utilize a different type of approach to deal with specific instances. Traditionally it seems to work well when you approach things with a somewhat specific and aggressive dynamic. This way there is no confusion about what it is you are after and what your intentions are. But sometimes it's better just to chill the fuck out. Lately I have been trying to learn to chill the fuck out. In every aspect of my life people have been telling me that I am too wound up. In the short run, this seems to benefit me greatly because certain people view it as enthusiasm and are usually impressed or amused by it. The reality is that once you get what you want or need, it's better just to function at a lower level of output because manic energy is something that can work against you. Have you seen a movie from about ten years ago called The Island of Dr  Moreau? Marlin Brando is this crazy genetic engineer that lives on this tropical island in the middle of nowhere. Along with Brando, the island is inhabited by tons of crazy creatures that are half man and half animal. This English guy that looks like Tom Green ends up on the island for some reason or another and becomes a strange spectator to all of this. After years of repression and control, the mutants that inhabit the island decide that they are going to over throw Brando and gain control. In short, the animals go crazy and end up killing Brando and eventually each other. But there is a point to where I'm going with this. There is one character in the movie named "Majai." Majai is this tiny midget guy that is Brando's sidekick. He dresses just like Brando and follows him around the entire film. Majai kind of looks like a miniature Mother Teresa covered in KC Masterpiece BBQ sauce. Through out the film Majai never really trips out. He is just chill and goes with the flow. When Brando plays the piano, Majai plays the piano. When Brando does his thing Majai is always right alongside him doing his thing. Eventually when the entire island goes insane and everyone is killing each other Majai is still chill. After chaos has ended and everyone is mostly dead, do you know who is still alive and has survived just fine? Majai... Do you get my point? Despite the fact that Majai looks like a hunk of dog shit with a face, because he was relaxed and used his brain as a means of survival. You wouldn't see Majai screaming and yelling at the return counter at Mervyns’s in Sun Valley because he forgot the receipt for a FUBU ski cap that ended up being too big. Majai would just be chill and handle the situation with a gentle touch, ultimately getting exactly what he wants. A light touch goes a long way. I seriously believe that if most of American society used Majai as an example of how to be a better human being, we wouldn't have problems like conflict in Iraq, starvation, suffering and guys in Pacoima that drive lifted trucks. Okay, I'm not saying that we should all go and cover our skin with BBQ sauce, walk around passively and not talk, but seriously think about how nice things would be if everyone just chilled out a little bit. I know Majai is an extreme example, but think about all of the characteristics that enabled him to survive. Most of them go against classic animal instinct, but isn't the idea to survive and not be defeated? I guess sometimes it's better to take a more passive approach than an aggressive one? Another example of how we should live our lives is the animal known as the three-toed sloth. The three-toed sloth just likes to chill in trees and eat leaves and shit. Despite the fact that a three toed sloth looks like monkey that got it's face melted with a blow torch, it's probably a lot more civilized than half of the people that live in Los Angeles. Let's imagine a scenario for a moment. "Mr. Three Toed Sloth" decides that he wants to incite a change in his life. Things have not been working so well in the rural area he inhabits and frankly life has just been getting him down. He realizes that he has unfulfilled dreams and desires. The desire to be realized for his talent of interpretive dance. So our sloth friend decides to buy a ticket to New York City and make his dreams come true! With a few dollars in his hand and intentions of gold, our sloth friend gets a job driving a cab to pay the bills as he attends auditions in his free time. Even though driving a cab seems to be working well for the sloth, he still encounters a problem that all of us have to deal with and that's road rage. As Mr. Sloth is cruising around in his yellow Chevy Caprice with three hundred thousand miles, he is almost ran off of the road by a yuppy stock broker in an SUV talking on his Blue Tooth. Not knowing how to deal with these types of situations, the sloth becomes slightly flustered and intimidated. The yuppy screams, "Get off the road and learn to drive you fucking sloth! Maybe if you actually had five toes instead of three, you could make something of yourself!"  But just then the sloth remembers the trees and the leaves. Suddenly everything doesn't seem so bad anymore. Insults are meaningless and the sloth lets them slide away. So next time you get into a lick of trouble and things are getting ugly, just remember how Majai survived and how the Three Toed Sloth was able to move on with his life. Next time you're at Pogo's Lounge and some drunken cholo tries to fight you because you were "looking at his lady," despite the fact she is three hundred pounds and has a goiter the size of a football, just ask him if you can reach out and touch a feeling. People respond a lot better over a cup of Celestial Seasonings tea and a good discussion about their ability to hold onto a moment forever. Next time you're at Sea World give a baby otter a hug.