Tuesday, 27 of June of 2017

Category » GOOD TOUCH

David Feldman on Occupy Wall Street


Comedian/writer David Feldman joins forces with badtouchgoodtouch.com and explains the intricate fuckery that is the US economy. Audio is taken from David’s weekly podcast, visuals harvested from youtube, archive.org and various other places. Edited together by Jimmy Lee Wirt and Britta Bordeaux.


Occupy LA

Here’s some footage I shot today of Occupy LA in downtown Los Angeles. If you’re not wise to what the fuck is going on in the world right now, specifically in Wall Street….well, go here and get educated: occupytogether.org

The guy featured in my footage has a youtube.com channel that I happened to run across, here’s a link to it: youtube.com/user/RawSangha


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The Dark Lebowski

What if Donny Kerabatsos and Donnie Darko showed up to the wrong set?

What if Frank the rabbit had a cleft asshole?

What if it Walter was a high school teacher?

What if the Germans were smurfs?

Writers Laura Braun and Eric Tolles answer all those questions, and more!

Your mailbox is calling, dude. -Laura

‎I`m throwing Charmin tonight! Meet at 8 dude. -Eric

Do you see what happens Donnie? Do you see what happens Donnie? DO YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS DONNIE, WHEN YOU INSERT THE LIFELINE EXERCISE CARD INTO A TEACHER’S ANUS? -Eric

Son, you are entering a wormhole of pain. -Laura

It really tied the kiddie porn dungeon together, did it not?
And this kid started a fire in it. -Eric

‎So you have no frame of reference here, Donny. you’re like a child that wanders into the middle of a double homicide… -Laura

You want a sparrow, I can get you a sparrow. I can get you a sparrow by 3 o’clock, with gray hair. -Eric

You’re killing your rabbit Donnie. -Laura

Obviously, you’re not a sleep-golfer. -Eric

Also, Dude, ‘Fuckass’ is not the preferred nomenclature. -Laura

Do you still think about girls a lot?
You mean ‘coitus?’ -Laura

I’ll suck a fuck for a thousand dollars. -Eric

She’s a therapist?
She was threatening medication. Are we gonna split hares here? -Eric

They’re called ‘Sparkle Motion,’ they’re some kind of, ugh, Pedo-Pop. -Eric

Say what you want about the tenets of National Smurfism; at least it’s asexual -Eric

Nobody fucks with the Cunningham. -Eric

Chut the fuck up Donnie. -Laura

I am really starting to doubt your commitment to the next round robin. -Laura

Life does not start and stop at your convenience, you mysterious rabbit costume. -Eric

I could just be sitting here with a jet engine in my room. -Eric

And you know, he’s got emotional problems man.
You mean…beyond parodoxism? -Eric

I’m just going to go find a time machine. -Eric

Do you see the fear people? Do you see the fear people? DO YOU SEE THE FEAR PEOPLE, WHEN YOU SEARCH FOR AN ANSWER IN THE WRONG PLACE? -Eric

Hey, careful man, there’s a portal here! -Laura

You must be here to fix the cellar door. -Eric

Lord. You can imagine where it goes from here.
He collapses the tangent universe? -Laura


The Rabbit Rubbed Its PAAS Together

We take communion, The Rabbit and I.

We share a fluffy yellow Peep and the Rabbit spreads its arms like a bat taking flight. The Rabbit shows me its stigmata, where the non-believers drove carrots into its paws.

I pause this reality and dive down the hole after it into the next.

Its matted bloody fur wiggles and hums. Buzzes. Hundreds of bees pour from its wounded appendages. In droves they circle my head. Into my ears they crawl. They tickle. They wriggle in there, in and out of my honeycombed brain. I feel a warm mess dripping down my neck.  I put my fingers into it, touch them to my lips and lick the sweet and sticky from them.

Did you see what God just did to us man!

The Rabbit claps its paws together and my skull flips back like an over-seized PEZ dispenser.

7 pink and green coffin-shaped candy pellets bounce off of my chest and skitter across the floor and skid to a stop in perfect alignment with the other. They open, a trumpet of creaking wood announcing their arrival. Thousands upon thousands of multi-colored baby spiders pour out of them, save for one. They cover the floor, up the bed and swarm over me. I feel compelled to lay flat on my back and let them crisscross my skin 8 legs at a time. I can feel each and every single depression. From the soles of my feet to the tip of my shoulders, they lock legs and slowly tip-toe, like a Sunday school procession. They blanket my body like a quilt, and I am comforted.

I hear the last candy coffin open and 3 dark shapes fly up and around the room, dancing like shadows in and out of the corners. I can’t quite make out their form, but their substance twinkles and sparkles and makes my eyes squint, like too much sunlight.

But I know these creatures are born of the moon.

They flutter and flap, black velvet wings that twist and turn to no pattern. Click. Click, click. They fly closer and closer, crashing into each other and spinning together madly.

A black licorice whip clatters to the floor like an empty picture frame.

The quilt of arachnids has melted like ice cream off of my skin and puddles around my body like an abandoned birthday party.

The Rabbit urges me to climb onto its back, and promises that we are safe as houses. I straddle it just above its snow white haunches and with a light tap of the licorice whip we zoom through a musty maze of tunnels, avoiding sharp-mouthed stones and the prying fingers of angry roots. This is Otik’s womb, I think, but The Rabbit tells me that we are late, that we have video tapes to return, that we have no time to waste with tree parties. We make 5 lefts in quick succession and then 4 slower rights and jump out into nightfall and straight into the ocean. I ask the Rabbit in crystal clear bubbles if it can swim and it replies that it’s not important. What is important, its bubbles breaking against my face, is if you can.

I grab the nape of the Rabbit’s neck in my teeth and pull it up, zigging and zagging towards that silver sliver, my lungs screaming for air, my heart screaming for salvation. I see the Rabbit’s eyes changing from green to brown to black.  I think of Sebastian, and his arrows. My skin looks like tinfoil in this light, I notice, and speaking I watch as the last bubble gurgles out of my mouth and floats just above me. I look one last time into the eyes of the Rabbit and grab hold of that bubble just before it is out of reach. And straining one last time, my mouth full of cotton candy, I break the surface of the water.

I’m in the middle of my living room sitting cross-legged, naked, sweating and praying. Presenting the floppy-eared Presence with a present. A trick in the palm of one hand and a treat in the other.

The Rabbit partakes of both.

The Rabbit shows me how we are all but Easter eggs of varying brilliance and design nested in fluorescent grass inside wicker baskets floating atop an ocean of melted nougat.

That we are all just cobweb hair and ghost tongues; bruised and battered orange pumpkin shells with our guts spilled all over the floor, ready and waiting for the candle.


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New T Shirts Available (for the ladies!)

It’s strange how and when ideas come to me for new designs, and today was a perfect example of that. I was taking a poop earlier and my brain shouted out ‘Oh yeah, scissor me!’, which came from an episode of South Park. Then my brain said ‘Scissors are doing it for themselves.’ So, I got inspired and whipped up these designs and put them up in the t shirt section of this site. Get one (or a bunch of them) today!


Free To Be, You And Me (1974)

When I look back on my life and think of some of my favorite things, the tv special ‘Free To Be, You And Me’ comes to mind. I remember the first time I saw it, and what caught my attention (and brain) was the intro title song. It gave me goosebumps, and it still does even today when I hear it. First and foremost, it’s the melody that I find so appealing. But, even as a kid the words to the song struck a chord with me. I’ll explain after you read them:

Free To Be, You And Me

There’s a land that I see where the children are free
And I say it ain’t far to this land from where we are
Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we’ll live

In a land where the river runs free
In a land through the green country
In a land to a shining sea
And you and me are free to be you and me

I see a land bright and clear, and the time’s comin’ near
When we’ll live in this land, you and me, hand in hand
Take my hand, come along, lend your voice to my song
Come along, take my hand, sing a song

For a land where the river runs free
For a land through the green country
For a land to a shining sea
For a land where the horses run free
And you and me are free to be you and me

Every boy in this land grows to be his own man
In this land, every girl grows to be her own woman
Take my hand, come with me where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we’ll run

To a land where the river runs free
To a land through the green country
To a land to a shining sea
To a land where the horses run free
To a land where the children are free
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be you and me

Now, I will admit that on the surface those lyrics seem pretty hippy-dippy and a little too idealistic. But to my 9 year old ears, they made perfect sense and didn’t seem unusual at all. I actually BELIEVED them and felt that world that was depicted in the song WAS achievable and the time was indeed ‘coming near.’ Maybe it was due to the fact that the ghost of the peace movement from the 60’s was still floating around in the ether there in the early 70’s, or maybe it was just my lack of life experience. Regardless, I really did think that my future would be one of joy and harmony with the rest of the world, joining together to live in peace and be decent to one another.

Boy, was I wrong on that one!

But you know what? Even if the idea of having a world where people life in peace isn’t achievable in my lifetime (or ever), I can catch a glimpse of what I thought could have been as I watch this tv special again.

Does that make me a pussy? You know what? I’m ok with that.

Here’s a quick description of the show (from Wikipedia):

Free to Be… You and Me, a project of the Ms. Foundation for Women, is a record album, and illustrated book first released in November 1972, featuring songs and stories from many current celebrities of the day (credited as “Marlo Thomas and Friends”) such as Alan Alda, Rosey Grier, Cicely Tyson, Carol Channing, Michael Jackson, and Diana Ross, among others. An ABC Afterschool Special using poetry, songs, and sketches, followed two years later in March 1974. The basic concept is to encourage a post-60’s gender neutrality, while saluting values such as individuality, tolerance, and happiness with one’s identity. A major thematic message is that anyone, whether a boy or a girl, can achieve anything.


PT Walkley – The Ghost Of Chivarly E.P. Review

I had the recent pleasure to be one of the select few to get a sneak peek at the upcoming e.p. ‘The Ghost of Chivalry’ by the amazing tune smith PT Walkley. Here’s a quick review of each track so you can get a taste of what you are missing (and will have to wait to hear until the e.p. is released on 2/22/11, but you can pre-order it here).

Love You Dearly – The e.p. kicks off with a sugary sweet mid tempo number that immediately had me grinning from ear to ear as PT filled my cranium with a joyous barrage of ‘la la la la la la’s’, and from the there the song builds to pure pop goodness. As it continues on the melody veers into Abbey Road territory (moody and slightly ominous), only to return to the snappy chorus of ‘la la la la la la’.  This song is infectious, and will put you in a better mood than you were in before listening to it. Great stuff!

This Is The Sound – Ah, sweet perfection. This one immediately made me think of Mott The Hoople’s ‘All The Young Dudes’ when it hit the chorus, which is  a good thing in my book! What the hell? An oboe in the bridge? One of aspects of PT Walkley that makes his music so rich is how he uses string quartets, saws, and a host of other instruments to create a rich, vivid environment on each of his songs. And for that I cannot praise him enough.

Save The World – Nice! This one starts out with more strings and kicks into a guitar driven pop rocker, and veers all over the place until it reaches the chorus which is filled with a wall of horns! The vocal delivery kind of reminds me of the super great band XTC. The song continues to build with lumbering drums and a happy chorus. Another winner here!

This little gem of an e.p. is a winner! And it’s only $5.00, so your basically paying 1.67 per song. It’s worth it! Pre-order your copy today!

Thanks to PT for giving me the chance to hear the e.p. in advance!

As an added bonus, for those of you who are not familiar with PT Walkey’s music I’ll share with you 3 videos from his brilliant ‘concept’ record ‘Mr. Macy Wakes Alone.’ You can listen to the entire record here. Cool, huh?


“The Story of Johnny Head-In-The Air and His Lawyer” with a side order of schadenfreude



it’s almost impossible to believe this, but i kid you not, my little kittens.

i don’t care if you don’t like cats, i’m not literally calling you a cat. it’s meant as a term of endearment, so don’t get all put out over it. it’s a compliment. why are you such an asshole?


part one:

so, this all starts with a really stupid, litigious, woman, who has inexplicably made the news in the last couple of days.


she was texting while walking in a shopping mall and walked right into a large decorative water fountain.


this wasn’t an unfortunate accident! nobody pushed her on purpose or otherwise.


she’s a grown woman and it was her own willful neglect of her own safety that caused this. if you’re that stupid, and that unaware of your surroundings, don’t leave the house without protective gear. better yet, take a helper with you or just stay home.




free safety lesson: this part is serious.


walking into fountains is the least of your worries when you’re not aware of who and what is around you. there are real life human predators out there, just waiting for easy pickings like this. you might as well have a target on your back. i’m saying this to men too, but, unfortunately, ladies happen to be at a higher risk for violent attacks (sexual or otherwise).

i’ve seen quite a few serious injuries and had a couple of my very own. i’m not claiming to have any medical expertise, but life experience has taught me, that when you’re seriously hurt, you don’t get up and walk away, while doing an almost 360 degree survey of the area, as you’re simultaneously climbing out of the water. she looked a lot more concerned about her bruised ego, than any bruised body parts.


she wants to sue the mall, because some people (specifically security), laughed at her stupidity. she didn’t stop there though. oh no! she practically advertised how stupid she was all over the media, opening herself up to a hell of a lot more laughter, and then had the nerve to be shocked that many did not sympathize with her!


her feelings were hurt. that’s all. she wants money, because her feelings were hurt.


that’s ridiculous! you don’t deserve a windfall (or would it be a mall-fall in this case), for that.


i refuse to join her pity party. she’s an asshole!


there are, of course, no shortage of lawyers, ready and willing to step in and help her out.


(calm down, my warm and fuzzy little legal eagles; she has apparently already settled on one.)


whether she winds up actually needing a criminal defense lawyer or civil attorney (or both) remains to be seen, but i’m not going to get any deeper into that part of her tale, as it still seems to be developing and i feel myself starting to stray off topic. some of the legal issues are brushed upon in the first video of her, which is from a news report.




news report with woman in question and her lawyer:

they’ve disabled the embedding, so you have to look at this part on youtube.

news report video: click here



security-cam video of woman falling into shopping mall fountain while texting aka the schadenfreude portion:



part two:

the first thought that came to my mind when i saw her story was “Die Geschichte von Hans Guck-in-die-Luft” (english translation: The Story of Johnny Head-In-The Air”).


she is one person who i think could have benefited greatly from the frightening childhood tale that i am about to share with you.


i grew up with a german childern’s book called “Struwwelpeter” (english translation: Shock Headed Peter). if you’re not familiar with this now semi-legendary literary masterpiece, let me give you a brief overview here.


originally written in german by heinrcih hoffmann in 1845; it is basically, a collection of cautionary children’s tales.


just in case the carefully worded prose of his tales were not sufficient to help sink the message of terror into your kid’s soft, stupid, little, skull all by itself, he also filled it chock full of some of the most beautifully gruesome illustrations ever put to paper.


a book for children that has been scaring (and scarring) the shit out of them (or helping them hold they’re feces in, if they happen to be the anal retentive type.), for 166 years.


don’t get me wrong, there are some very useful tips for the unworldly and uninitiated young human, specifically surrounding the subjects of the most elementary laws of physics.


i was under the impression that these lessons were generally learned by a combination of trial and error and the helpful advice of your wonderful parents. if you still refuse to learn, or are just unable to learn, that you, as a human, do not happen possess the power to bend time/space/gravity etc. at your will, then here’s the book for you!


i personally wouldn’t recommend stories that end with the worst possible scenarios as a primer for my kids. then again, i don’t have kids, so who am i to speak on such subjects. i just know how it affected me.


the forceful, nightmarish way that these lessons were told and illustrated… well, let’s just say this, i’m sure i’m not the first person to mention this book in a therapy session or two.



please, also note, that this is probably the least gruesome of all the tales in this book, it was just the most appropriate for this post.


part two addendum:

if you’d like your own brand new, physical copy of this great coffee table, conversation starter piece (great for a first date, boring party, nosy landlord, etc), please visit the beautiful bill shafer at hyaenagallery.com and he’ll take care of you.


you can shop with him online or visit the shop/gallery in burbank, ca.. just click the link above and the magic will follow…

there is a lot of phenomenal original art all over that place too!



ok. enough with the plugs for my pals. here’s the story:


“The Story of Johnny Head-in-Air”

As he trudged along to school,

It was always Johnny’s rule

To be looking at the sky

And the clouds that floated by;

But what just before him lay,

In his way,

Johnny never thought about;

So that every one cried out

“Look at little Johnny there,

Little Johnny Head-In-Air!”

Running just in Johnny’s way

Came a little dog one day;

Johnny’s eyes were still astray

Up on high,

In the sky;

And he never heard them cry

“Johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!”



Down they fell, with such a thump,

Dog and Johnny in a lump!



Once, with head as high as ever,

Johnny walked beside the river.

Johnny watched the swallows trying

Which was cleverest at flying.

Oh! what fun!

Johnny watched the bright round sun

Going in and coming out;

This was all he thought about.

So he strode on, only think!

To the river’s very brink,

Where the bank was high and steep,

And the water very deep;

And the fishes, in a row,

Stared to see him coming so.

One step more! oh! sad to tell!

Headlong in poor Johnny fell.

And the fishes, in dismay,

Wagged their tails and swam away.



There lay Johnny on his face,

With his nice red writing-case;

But, as they were passing by,

Two strong men had heard him cry;

And, with sticks, these two strong men

Hooked poor Johnny out again.



Oh! you should have seen him shiver

When they pulled him from the river.

He was in a sorry plight!

Dripping wet, and such a fright!

Wet all over, everywhere,

Clothes, and arms, and face, and hair:

Johnny never will forget

What it is to be so wet.

And the fishes, one, two, three,

Are come back again, you see;

Up they came the moment after,

To enjoy the fun and laughter.

Each popped out his little head,

And, to tease poor Johnny, said

“Silly little Johnny, look,

You have lost your writing-book!”


part three:

several years ago, i became aware of a very different, and quite brilliant band, called the tiger lillies, who put on a whole musical show, based on all of the stories in this book. here’s a video that includes a live version of ‘snip snip’, which also happens to be the story that scared me most of all. it still does.




The Tiger Lillies – “Snip Snip”





part four – wrapping this up:

i have so much more to say about all of the other issues that this whole ridiculous display raises about our collective sense of arrogance, entitlement, and devolution into textbook sociopaths, but i tried really hard to stick with my original idea here.


that is, to compare this incident with a great/horrible children’s book and to turn y’all on to a beautiful band of artists called the tigerlillies, a great writer named mark ebner; creator of “Hollywood Interrupted” (he inadvertently made me aware of this watery mess by posting a video).



i chose to use the english translation here, since the 10 or 12 readers that i have are mostly english speaking.


however, the english translated source includes the same disturbing illustrations as the coveted german one

that i still have sitting on my bookshelf from my childhood.



i have also included a link to the entire book (english translation) here, for your amusement, horror,

or anthropological studies.