Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Acid Flashback No. 43

“A foolish heart will call you to toss your dreams away, then turn around and blame you for the way you went astray.” ~ Grateful Dead 
                                                 
Happy New Year! I'm writing during a time in the holiday season where I'm not sure what day it is. If 2015 was called my year of Lionheart, then 2016 is the year of the gorilla. My New Year’s plans include studying Gorilla Monsoonsince I really can't climb the Empire State Building this year. I lost my company in 2015, but I want to wish my dear, dear friends a happy new year with lots of online shopping. Despite the really freaked-out, freaky-cool flashbacks of old WWF Wrestling and Lionheart Entertainment, it’s been a great year for Lifestyles of the Richard and Famous. We're going to a New Delhi next year when my wife is ready to go grocery shopping. Fortinos is getting boring and not as culturally diverse.

You might think that I’m writing another random blog, but I want to promote traffic and become responsible for less traffic accidents. The Great Beyond is where I’ve been giving you my heart and soul. This is a great place to create awareness on the issue of the craziness of traffic. I invented the idea of photo radar before Bob Rae started selling his concept of the idea on the campaign trail before it was first introduced to South Ontario in 1994. When you hear stupid stories like a giant monkey tries to cross the highway and causes a large traffic jam, remember live traffic cameras are watching you whenever you’re driving, so drive safely. Traffic is always evolving. I created the idea of a Traffic Channel and I want to share my passion for traffic in the next blog. My next big idea is turning the Traffic Channel into 11-D, or something way better than 3-D, where trucks are popping out of the TV screen while you’re watching your favorite station with sponsorships from Esso, Petro Canada and Mr. Lube. Stay tuned, because starting on January 11, 2016, I'm releasing the first installment of The Midnight Traffic Report for The Great Beyond. 

Truckin’ is a song by the Grateful Dead, which first appeared on their 1970 album. Lately it occurs to me, what a long, strange trip it’s been….

Tim Hortons Truck

Monday, December 28, 2015

Beyond The Blue Kite Is Pretty Fucking Good

“Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye've produced. Choose life.” 

Lionheart Leaks and WikiLeaks, which publicizes leaked information, is not in any way affiliated with Wikipedia. If you Google choice anywhere on the Internet, you'll learn it involves mentally making a decision: judging the merits of multiple options and selecting one or more of them. I regret choosing a junk food coma and falling asleep in the middle of King Kong. The movie is a technical achievement and it's also a curiously touching fable in which the beast is seen, not as a monster of destruction, but as a creature that, in its own way, wants to do the right thing. Even giant gorillas have feelings.

Beyond The Blue Kite is not King Kong and instead it floats eerily in a midpoint between cool realism and dark fiction. It's a Young Adult novel for older teens with first person point of view. Brian McFadden-Brant is a 17-year-old alone in bed on Thursday night before the weekend begins with Brian’s chilling hallucinatory visions and painful memories of physical abuse from his childhood before his dad walked out on him. Brian has been struggling with acute mental illness and the drugs he’s taking are illegally combined with prescribed medication leading to a profoundly saddening, intriguing and very compelling experience for the reader. 

The first step to recovery of addiction in Southern California is addiction treatment programs offered to folks at the Betty Ford Center. Its expert, comprehensive alcohol and drug rehab integrates the latest research and evidence-based practices. With addiction, every person's situation is different. You might be wondering why I’m not writing about addiction treatment in Southern Ontario. The reason is because I’m not paid to promote the healthcare industry in Canada, but I'd like to advocate choice in other nations where it matters. 

Betty Ford

Monday, December 14, 2015

The Great Beyond Is A Good Place

Question: How do I evoke the broader illusions of grandeur?

Richard's heart
Answer: I give you my heart. I'm releasing Lionheart Leaks. I'm going to redefine magical realism. The struggle to define magical realism goes beyond the bloody human heart and it defines new rules with real choices and consequences. We are offered a new style that is thoroughly of this world and goes beyond the mundane. In my magical realism, we find the transformation of common work into awesome and unreal experiences that keep us waiting for the next shock.

Moral theology is a term used by the Roman Catholic Church to describe the study of God from a perspective of how man must live in order to attain the presence of favor of God. True moral theology determines how man should live and it examines such things as freedom, conscience, love, responsibility and law. The New Year is a time to reflect on the past year with good and bad blogs. As I look back, the human study of morally wrong theology leads Beyond The Rum Diary: Hunting For Your Dream.

God gave Moses the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai to serve as principles of moral behavior for the human race. I believe God would go beyond the Ten Commandments if Moses were alive today. It's very difficult in publishing to capitalize on old trends with just two tablets of stone. Here are the ‘11 Commandments for the 21st Century.'

  1. Thou shalt not commit climate change on the world.
  2. Thou shalt not look at Billy Idol cover art.
  3. Thou shalt not sext your neighbor.
  4. Remember every day of the week, especially Tuesday, and keep it holy.
  5. Remember, before Alzheimer's takes memory away from you.
  6. Honor your goldfish if he or she is your only friend.
  7. Thou shalt not covet trillions of dollars.
  8. Thou shalt not commit cyberterrorism.
  9. Thou shalt not watch reality shows from ten years ago on YouTube.
  10. Thou shalt not declare World War 4.
  11. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth using your iPhone or any electronic device.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

The Great Unknown

So we're all heading off into the great unknown....


First Clause: Lionheart Leaks

As defined by the Richard Tattoni Free Dictionary, a clause is simply "a particular and separate damn article, stipulation, or proviso in a treaty, bill or contract." I don't have a clause binding me to write tales of Lionheart Leaks, but I'm plotting fresh ideas for 60 to 70 installments in the offline serial novel not-ready-to-blog.

And you can start by trying to find anything done online about Lionheart Leaks and simply go Beyond The Rum Diary. E.B. White was an American writer and lucky bastard who was a contributor to The New Yorker magazine. White believed "the best writing is rewriting." In other words, the best writing is editing. We find all kinds of free online books, but mine will be well-edited and it will shine a new light on your fears of radio. 

Second Clause: Ho, Ho, Ho 

Christmas is a time to give generously. "Ho, ho, ho" is a deep-throated laugh or chuckle used as the laugh of Santa Claus or even the Jolly Green Giant. The Daniel Blowden Show wishes everyone a happy holiday season. If you haven't finished your fucking shopping or you don't know what to buy, there's always goddamn gift cards: 

gift card
n.
  1. A prepaid credit card that can be used as an alternative to cash.
  2. A gift that basically means, “Merry Christmas, I know literally nothing about you.”
I'm going to share a motherfucking poem:

Santa Claus Wasn't My Friend

I knew Santa Claus, who was trusty in his way,
When he came near, his busy elves ebbed away.
And with fond memories, Donner jingled away,
Ebbing or dying to go, Blitzen would run away.
Of his choice virtues, I can speak on his behalf,
Or hear the drunk and Rudolph’s red-nosed laugh.
(And they never did meet again on George Street).

I coined wishing wells for penniless spirits from hell,
His dreams dropped, twisting from sadness to grief.
He dreamed of his family, trapped in a prison cell,
He was behind bars, steel barriers without relief.
This would be the jolly old man’s ineffable fate
That he did time while Mrs. Claus played late.
(I wish they worked together on George Street).

The North Pole or Hamilton or any living land
Frightened just in time for a Christmas witch.
Mrs. Claus formed a steamy female punk band.
Near the playground she would sing like a bitch
Or strolled with their child and dog to the store,
And he’d see them there and recall a longing lore.
(Over a haze he wouldn’t work on George Street).
                                      
Let love be the demise for any other knowing man,
But not for this Santa Claus and his heart of stone;
He’s strong, unmistakable and a trustworthy man.
One day he will pay his mortgage and bank loan.
Those past days were a decade to flash or blur,
Till a further step he’ll live to support her.
(He wasn’t my friend on George Street). 




Monday, November 23, 2015

What We’ve Got Here Is A Failure To Communicate

“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” ~ Hunter S. Thomspon

Where do we manufacture dreams?

Some men you just can’t reach, especially those like Donald Trump telling stories about the fall of the World Trade Center. Weird people watch Pop Goes The World and sing all about the World Trade Center tumbling down with thousands and thousands of Arabs cheering on the streets of Jersey City. That's the truth.

I’ve learned everything I need to know from Chelsea Handler’s Uganda Be Kidding Me, following Martha Stewart on Facebook, drawing Pluto in one easy step and writing handwritten letters to stars of Disney On Ice. To my dear, dear friends in the Americas, Happy Thanksgiving and Give Peace A Chance.


But there are more professional problems than cartoon violence or Civil War college football rivalry game. The Washington Redskins players are accusing referees of calling penalties against the team because the referees don’t like the Redskins name. The world is filled with horror, violence, pain and racial injustices from terrorism. ISIS wants us to accept that it is how it is; and ISIS wants good people to buy into demented fantasies that they’re doing something important. Cyberterrorists are a bunch of savages that are going to join the Russians and the French terrorists like the cockroaches they are.

In the heart of Burlington, I want to rid the world of the goddamn status quo and cyberterrorism and the evils plaguing society from giving us fucking sequels to An Inconvenient Truth. The world is plagued by lies, but the most powerful truth is the real commercial world. You can’t underestimate the impact of the Final Buck. Out of the blue, I’m giving you Lionheart Leaks.

The Burlington Post dropped my promotional advertising on page nine, but the Post has been all over my controversy on page eleven. It seems like small potatoes, but it blew up last week in the newspaper. My cousin auctioned off my table from the castle for $500 and I wanted it auctioned off for $600 for charity. Bubba called and told me that he would set up a date to pick up my table. I said “You can’t have it.” It was supposed to be $600 instead of $500. Bubba went to the Burlington Post and complained and we got in a big fight. I threatened to punch him out. I’ve been down and out lately since spending every last cent on Lionheart Leaks. I'm getting deeper and deeper in debt.

Christmas isn’t about what you need, it’s about what you want, and trusting your instincts to make the right choices. My choice is bringing the world Lionheart Leaks on December 1st and releasing the hardcore facts. Not even WikiLeaks can reveal true inner demons troubling our streets. I feel like I'm getting a little closer to the streets, the barking dogs and sleepless nights. 

Ottis O’Toole walks the streets and he begins to explain to Johnny Electric in Installment No. 1: “Johnny Electric was the charged CEO of Lionheart Incorporated and he was a serious gambler with vices.” I’m allowing people close to me to reveal the facts about how Lionheart almost ruined my life. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind, but no use crying over spilt milk.



And I'm not going to cry about suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome. Science Daily believes "the 'Peter Pan Syndrome' affects people who do not want or feel unable to to grow up, people with the body of an adult, but the mind of a child. The syndrome is not currently a psychopathology" or fully understood.


If you’re like me and you believe that The Little House On The Prairie TV theme song inspired John Williams to write the Star Wars theme song, then you also believe Walt Disney’s not dead, he’s frozen, and when someone thaws out the Walt, he’s going to be pretty pissed off at Oswald.





Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Black Jeopardy And The Bills After The Weird Go Pro

Predicament No. 1: Novelism

Bring back the motherfucking-ass dominance of the novel as a literary form.

I want to become a category on Jeopardy and watch the entire episode for the hearing impaired with White Alex screaming his lungs out. I’m weighing the pros and cons of online writing and concluding I want to write for the friggin' future. I've chose to write my first novel blog. I'm releasing the first edition of Lionheart Leaks.

The story is about a group of 20-something underachievers struggling in life. They're paid to work for Lionheart Incorporated. Working for the very ambitious and corrupt company, the employees form good friendships before learning they have been duped by the company. After a friend dies, they secretly form Lionheart Leaks to get back at the founders of Lionheart, but their plan gets sabotaged.

Here’s my self-edited opening from the highly anticipated online novel in Installment No. 1: Howgh, It All Began (A Collection Of Random Incidents):

“A scratched vinyl record was being played on the stereo turntable and the song sounded like Cherry, Cherry from Neil Diamond’s Gold. I was listening to the classic song and a poor, dumb waitress at the same time. The troubled waitress with bright green eyes wearing too much makeup apologized for not recognizing me at first and then told me that she would bring another drink.” (Lionheart Leaks WIP)

It takes a lot of courage to release a novel idea. I had to brush the friggin’ dust off the dictionary before looking up brave.

brave

 (brāv)

adj. brav·er, brav·est
1. Possessing or displaying courage.
2. Making a fine display; impressive or showy: "a coat of brave red lipstick on a mouth so wrinkled that it didn't even have a clear outline" (Anne Tyler).
3. Excellent; great: "The Romans were like brothers / In the brave days of old" (Thomas Macaulay).
4. A word that basically means Richard Tattoni.

If I had Stephen King’s address, I would send him an old-fashioned letter and tell him he’s getting old and he should visit The Great Beyond. The word if is the middle word in life and maybe Stephen King needs to read Lionheart Leaks coming soon Beyond The Rum Diary.


Predicament No. 2: Pros and Cons

O.J. Simpson became USC’s second Heisman Trophy winner in 1968 when he first captured the hearts and minds of Civil War enthusiasts. The Pac-12 evolved over recent decades to become bigger and better, but the conference is having a bloody awful year of football.

A Civil War college football rivalry game between Beavers and Ducks brings in a shitload of money for the Pac-12 Conference. The Great Beyond has become a home for veterans of the game to look back and remember. Leave It To Beaver, I’m not choosing sides or bringing back Abraham Lincoln from the dead. I want to go beyond football and play a new game on my PlayStation 11. Let’s play Black Jeopardy. In the category of “What Happened Was,” Black Alex says “The lights went off.” Mr. Hightower buzzes in first and tries answering in the form of a question, “What happened was I forgot to pay the bill.” Mr. Hightower couldn't answer in the form of a question and starts a fight with Black Alex over his Bill Cosby sweater.

The American Thanksgiving is a time to relive O.J. Simpson’s big record-breaking performance against the Detroit Lions. O.J. is still revered as the best player the Buffalo Bills ever had. True story.

I’ve accepted that there are pros and cons in this world, and professional teams like the Buffalo Bills must be better understood. This is the reality of the world that we live in. I’m a fan of Buffalo, Seattle and the Browns. Bring back Jim Brown, James Brown and Charlie Brown!





Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Hay, O.J. Simpson And 11 Reasons To Believe In Civil War

Indian Summers are goddamn important to climate change and we must adapt ourselves to the fucking requirements of chaos.

Hay, my native brothers and sisters, can be placed as mulch or top cover in a garden bed or as filler for exposed or idle space to help protect plants. Trucks carrying bales of hay to teepees and native gardens in your neighbourhood is very necessary in this motherfucking age. I don’t mean to always say hay, but it’s important. Overused words piss me off and when I hear And used repetitively it starts to sound like Anne, but my wife’s name is Jodie and I don’t want to hear Anne all the time. Howgh, I would like to suggest you stop overusing the fucking word.

Sometimes I think about Joseph Brant Hospital (its name is derived from Joseph Brant, as the late member of the nearby Grand River tribe of the Kanien'keha:ka). Beyond The Rum Diary, I don’t wonder what disease is going to kill me, I wonder who is going to kill me. Quentin Tarantino said “You have to call a murder a murder and the murderers the murderers” and he’s right, but there are much greater murderers than cops. O.J. is more than a tasty bottle of juice in my fridge. O.J. Simpson is a murderer out to get everyone. The former running back for USC would have done it much differently. He would have said “Give me that glove back” and he would have made the glove fit in the courtroom, if he could do it over. Judge Lance Ito was a hero for allowing O.J. to walk free, but Juice can never play football again. The Pac-10 was a lot different when O.J. played college football and now it’s the Pac-12, but there will always be Civil War.

There would be a greater Civil War with O.J. Simpson in attendance, but the rules of war have changed. Welcome To The Jungle, guerrilla warfare really took off after Vietnam and Colonel Walter E. Kurtz in fucking Cambodia. The enemy is hidden deep inside you. The Oregon State Beavers are handicapped against the weak Ducks, but always believe in a good civil college football rivalry game. Here’s 11 Reasons To Believe In Civil War:

  1. Beaver Tails are fun to eat
  2. There will always be racism
  3. Hearts of darkness will prevail
  4. Civil War is a song by Guns N’ Roses
  5. Vietnam and Oregon have similar governments
  6. O.J. Simpson was acquitted in a civil court
  7. Kato Kaelin is an Oregon State Beavers fan
  8. Bob Hope plays on YouTube for the troops
  9. Duck will be served every Thanksgiving
  10. Santa Claus brings gifts to the winning team
  11. The Pac-12 will not change its name to Pac-11
Damn, the Oregon State Beavers are building and already thinking ahead to next year; but truth be told, I’m using the Beavers as a smokescreen. The Big Ten Conference is stacked and it’s too difficult to predict a fair outcome. I wanted to mount my offense on the West Coast. I’ve exposed Oregon and I've found the underdog team. I’m hiding behind the Beavers. You might be asking yourself, what happens after the Civil War? I’ll tell you. Lionheart Leaks and all about the Industrial Revolution and more. There’s always a war going on in my mind.

Courtesy of Francis Ford Coppola

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Acid Flashback No. 33

Remembrance Day is observed on November 11th in most countries since the bitter end of hostilities of World War I, but every fucking day is like World War III on Tuesday in my world.

Halloween isn’t actually over and every day is Halloween for cases like mine. I’m scared shitless of the fucking fragmented flashbacks that haunt my mind. I’m experiencing a really bad flashback now and all I want to do is slave myself to the keyboard and write and write about what’s really important. My motherfucking memoir needs to be written. I’m writing my biography called Being Richard Tattoni. I’m writing flashbacks of my childhood and visiting a cherry farm in Oregon. My mind trips out a few more times watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles and now I’m back home again anticipating a bloody Civil War in Oregon and pissed I can't contribute to the war effort. I'm in the basement with a straightjacket on, defining what lies between war and peace and all I ever really wanted. But the truth would be repeated as a massive echo, almost like I was a politician trying to win a comedic nomination.

My friends,  I would describe my life to the chase for the American Dream. That chase began at the bottom of the hill just off the main drag in good ol' Burlington, Ontario -- right outside of Hamilton. Atop of the hill was a small house in a shining city in its own right. The hill had twists, the hill had turns, a 7-Eleven and even a few tears, nothing wrong with that. Floyd Mayweather’s barber shop was down the street. As an 11-year-old boy, I would throw the football and climb the monkey bars for the first time in my life knowing I would be recruited by Oregon State University.

STOP. I didn’t go to Oregon State University. I didn’t fucking go to Oregon University. All I know is that the Ducks narrowly defeated Arizona State in a shootout. It’s setting the stage for a bloody Civil War in Oregon. The worst the state has ever seen. I’m outta the straightjacket now and getting fucking migraines and everything is spinning from these goddamn flashbacks. History will be kind to George W. Bush, but why the fuck isn’t his name spelled the same as Busch Beer? Jeb Bush won’t get the motherfucking Republican nomination because his name is spelled differently than the beer and that’s the fucking truth. Son-of-a-bitch, I’m having a bad flashback and it’s hurting . I had to brush off the motherfucking cobwebs on the old dictionary to look up acid flashback.

ac·id flash·back


(ăs′ĭd flăsh′băk′)


n.
1. a psychedelic experience caused by your body metabolizing LSD stored in the fat of your body after LSD usage in the past.
2. an ostrobogulous psychological phenomenon.
3. Jerry Garcia's revenge.

Throwing the Richard Tattoni Free Dictionary against the wall, I'm pulling down my navy blue track pants and masturbating to images of Sarah Palin as she's entering the GOP presidential debate wearing nothing on the X-Rated imaginary CNN in my delusional mind. She walks off the stage and she's 3-D, but it's way fucking better and she's like 11-D as she pops into real life and now we're having a motherfucking tea party together all bare-ass and naked in the basement of The Tattoni International Hotel & Tower. My head has been spinning and I hear the doorbell upstairs as it rings and rings louder. I realize everything is spinning and ringing in the base of my skull after a long night.


Now that I'm real, I know who I am, and what my doctor can do for me. Dr. Strange says I've been having bad dreams and that I should take up hobbies like writing. My memoir needs to be thousands of fucking more pages and I need it to be longer than Moby Dick, but it won't be the worst of me. It's all in my head and I can friggin' control strange thoughts.