I Am Not Dead (as if you thought so)

What up random internet meanderers? I hope the crumbling economy and fragile geopolitical state of the world has not hindered your ability to fuck, drink beer, and smoke some shit. Life is short, so get high now, while you still have the chance.
As you may have noticed if you are stubborn enough to still poke around here, not much is going on around here. I think me and Mike hit moments of uninspiration at the same time, and then I kinda got mine back, but we didn't have any good projects going, so I've retreated to my ancient blog - Rojonekku - where I've been doing some stupid things, including this year's football previews, and a lot of shit there lately has been boring, but I am trying to get back in the habit of wasting my life inside the internets for the fleeting approval of anonymous homosexuals, so I'm still finding my smile again bros. But you should check that bullshit out and tell your mom about it too. 4 out of 5 moms love my ass.
Also, this is a month or two old, but me and my man the PSY/OPSogist finished up another CD of original materials under our wack ass Solaris Earth Pipeline name, called 45s on 33. Here is a free download link. I was supposed to make a cover, and I had this shit planned where I was gonna have this jukebox I have in my goat pen with my goat, and me wearing this pair of overalls I have that are covered in rhinestones like an old country singer, wearing my lucky red wrestling mask like always, but then my last goat got killed by the chupacabra (no shit - his heart was missing, and there was no blood), so I couldn't do that. Then I was gonna do the same thing by my old Datsun that is half-rusted and covered in Christmas lights in the field beside my house. But I never felt like it. (Yesterday, two cars were driving all slow down our road, gawking at my property, and the lead car - a convertible PT Cruiser - actually stopped in the road and a kid in the car took a digital pic of the Datsun, and the older guy driving got out the car and told the woman driving the car behind him, "You see how they do out here in the country? Christmas lights on the junk car." Luckily, at that exact time I confronted them wearing nothing but a pair of paint-splattered camo shorts, bad tattoos in full glory, not to mention LOUNGIN' across my beer belly like I was a retarded Samoan, but to the dude's credit, he chatted us up and they seemed like good folks who used to have family in this area decades ago. Our house used to be the only one for miles, so fuck y'all bitch ass neighbors. Anyways, I never did a cover for this CD, but mostly people just steal music and don't look at music, so just imagine goats, old jukeboxes, junk cars with Christmas lights, and a poorly tattooed heavyweight of a man in rhinestone overalls sitting on a flipped over 5-gallon bucket. But hit that link up.
Speaking of the football (I spoke of it above about the previews starting up on rojonekku, in case that transition was a little rough), I am about to launch an email pro football pool of doom, in its ninth year (won six of 8 times by stupid Califronians), and it's a slightly different bounce on the year-long football pools, where like the top few dudes get points each week, and you could conceivably miss half the year but win the pool, because I don't reward consistent mediocrity like most year-long pools do, where if you miss a week, you are doomed. There are also goofy side bets and other stupid shit that goes on involving the pool, and you win an imaginary trophy that I've never actually had made in 8 years, plus internet bragging rights, so if you is interested, hit up my appropriate email at cmfootballpool at yahoo.com.
Finally, I think Mike Dikk is homeless or some shit. Not really, but he is afflicted with temporary poverty. This time of year, more than any, poverty is not his friend, and I am feeling sad for my friend Michael K. Dikkowski. You see, it is Madden Time, and Madden '09 is dropping, and he has no money, not even for regular shit like phone bills, but even less so for frivolous yet far more important bullshit like Madden. I mean, we have people donating millions upon millions of dollars to a pair of self-righteous bitch asses to run for President, and Mike Dikk can't even get sixty bucks to keep his mind right for another autumnal section of the calendar. It just isn't right. Think of all the joy Mike has indirectly brought you inside the internet machine over the past couple of years. And I do not know if Mike has a paypal account or what it is, but I do know mine and how to mail a money order to Mike, so won't you help by sending a token of your appreciation to ravenmack at earthlink.net in the paypals. If a handful of people sent just a dollar or two each, after the evil robot jews take their cut, I could send Mike enough money to get the new Madden game and keep him from committing suicide for another four months. Won't you help?
Alright, that's all I can think of to catch you guys up on. Peace out bitches.