I’ve been slacking. Apparently the title of “Sports Editor” actually entails writing about sports at least some of the time. Clearly, this fact has been lost on me recently, however in my defense – there just hasn’t been much going since it is the NFL Preseason, after all. What – did you think that we’d be covering Baseball here? If so – get acquainted with the word “disappointed” (Cubs fans should already be well acquainted with the term); I’d rather have my ballsack stapled to a burning building than suffer through a single inning of baseball.

The good news is that the long, bleak offseason is just about over and Football is about to start, and I’ve seen enough to make some predictions about the upcoming season. As a disclaimer, before anyone starts pulling out calculators and thinks to call me out on the Win/Loss ratios – they are loose estimations and won’t exactly jibe with actual games played etc.

49ers - 6-10: Good Defense, but that’s about it. The 49′ers will rot for quite a bit longer.

Bears - 7-9 : Jay Cutler: 24-29 as a starter. Really, that says it all. There’s always next year, right Chicago fans?

Bengals - 9-7: Between the psychiatric bills and bail money, Cinci will only be able to sustain this team for about a year. They’ll be back to the NFL cellar by next season.

Bills - 4-10: These guys couldn’t suck any more even if they were headquartered in a truck stop bathroom.

Broncos - 9-7: Welcome to the Tebow era in Denver – It oughta be fun to watch, but this year might be a little rough for the rookie.

Browns - 5-11: Holmgren takes over as the new Head Coach for the Browns, but not much will change this year.

Buccaneers - 3-13: Yeah, it was Dungy that couldn’t get them over the hump…

Cardinals - 11-5: Arizona should be pretty tough, and with Leinert now on the trading block, anything could happen…

Chargers - 12-4: Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

Chiefs - 4-12: Q: How do you keep the Kansas City Chiefs out of your yard? A: Put up a goal post

Colts - 11-5: Will continue to compete, but Peyton doesn’t have enough gas left in the tank to take them all the way. Look for them to self combust in spectacular fashion come December.

Cowboys - 13-3: Locked, cocked, and ready to rock – Look for the ‘Boys to take it home this year. The only thing that can keep Dallas from taking home the Lombardi at home this year, is Dallas itself.

Dolphins - 7-9: Nope, not there yet.

Eagles - 9-7: Hey, I hear Marvin Harrison is available and right down the street.

Falcons - 10-6: Things are looking up in the ATL with Turner returning healthy. Beyond that, there just isn’t much to look forward to.

Giants  -8-8: One suggestion: Draft some defense. The Offense will win some games,  but the defense will give the rest away.

Jaguars - 8-8: As with all Florida NFL Teams, the best you can hope for is mediocrity.

Jets - 11-5: The Jets have most of the pieces in place and should be able to win the AFC.Rex Ryan has predicted a Super Bowl appearance, and win – I predict that he’ll collapse in a horrific jelly doughnut accident.

Lions - 3-13: Well, they can’t get any worse – Right, Detroit?

Packers - 11-5: The Pack will continue to be in contention, but don’t have any consistent breakout players to really take it home.

Panthers - 8-8: Pushing the limits of average since 1995. This year will be no different.

Patriots - 0-16: No, I don’t really believe that they’ll go 0-16 – but it felt gooood typing it. Realistically, and with any luck, they’ll go 9-7 and flounder early in the playoffs.

Raiders - 4-12: One of the biggest jokes in the NFL; Until Al Davis sells, the punchline won’t change.

Rams - 1-15: Not worth the effort.  Bottom dwellers yet again.

Ravens - 10-6: As usual, all defense with a painfully average offense. Nothing to see here, move along…

Redskins - 4-12: The NFC’s answer to the Raiders. Sorry this happened to you McNabb, but hey – at least your working – right?

Saints - 12-4: Pulling for them, but doubt that they will be able to repeat as Champs. Crash and burn deep in the playoffs.

Seahawks - 6-10: Q: What do you call 47 millionaires sitting around a TV watching the Super Bowl? A: The Seattle Seahawks

Steelers - 6-10: Rapelisberger being out for 4-6 games early In the season effectively closes the door for them this year.

Texans - 9-7: If they can finally manage to keep opposing defenses from removing the QB’s head, they might be OK.

Titans - 11-5: Look for Vince Young to take the reins this year and do some great things. Not necessarily contenders, but will definitely be competitive.

Vikings - 10-6: Purple Jesus can’t even save this trainwreck – especially with Favre’s walker blocking all of the holes on the inside .

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Leo must be in a funk, that’s right ladies and gentlemen. The compromise has been made, and Leo, as usual, took that compromise straight up his ass again.

It all started when Leo secretly brought a motorcycle. Not just any plain old cycle, but a Honda CB 1000.

This is basically the same as a CBR 1000, however, over here its called the naked CBR. The CB has the basics that a real bike needs. Two tires, a huge engine, a gas tank, and a seat to place my ass on. Classic styling and it was all mine for a steal. Brought and paid for, now I just had to tell the wife. This will pend on explosion, or maybe just expulsion.

I thought long and hard about when to tell her about this purchase that she was dead set against. I had the idea to tell her about 4:30 p.m. on Friday night, and the fuse was lit. Divorce papers are pending if I keep it or get rid of it. Screw it then, I’m just going to keep the damn thing then. Its a nice bike, and the divorce was a long time in the waiting.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and I have no desire to do myself in on a bike. I brought all of my protective equipment already. I have a helmet and a rider jacket coming in the mail as you read this article

Fuck it, I’m keeping the helmet and the jacket just for shits and grins. I’m taking the money from the bike and buying shit for the car to boot. Suspension, clutch, and a rear differential are in the works for the baby that I can keep.

Needless to say, the bike is going back to the original owner.

But hell, my Subaru WRX is gonna get the works.

I can’t wait to make this all wheel drive car a rear wheel drive car.

That’s when the shit will hit the pavement.

~Love from Leo.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Take heed: Disney World, is not the happiest place on Earth – unless you sit on the board at Disney. Currently, I am on vacation, which is why you haven’t seen any posts in a while (Not sure what everyone else’s excuses are, but I digress). The vacation is going great, we’re parked on a great beach in Florida with almost the entire beach to ourselves and some nice weather to boot. While here, we got the brainstorm to take the rugrat to Disney World and let him have some fun. Since I’m half drunk on tequila, Dos Equis and rum, I’m going to make this short by listing my observations in a tried and true favorite of using an (sort of) outline format. Feel free to eat a dick if you don’t like it.

1. Before we ever even set foot in the “Magic Kingdom” we spent $189.00. Seriously. $189 for two tickets and a parking spot. Really, Walt? 14 bucks to park the car? Dick.

2. Five minutes later, there was another fee – $15 bucks for a stroller – that didn’t even have a place to put a bag. Granted – we could have brought a stroller – in retrospect, that may have been the smart move, but when you are traveling cross country in a European sedan with enough gear to last a week, strollers don’t usually make the cut. For $82 bucks a head, the fucking stroller should be complimentary.

3. It’d be nice if you could manage to at least act like you were using some ingenuity in the ride selection. I counted three variants of “It’s a Small World – which was down for some reason or other – and about 3 variants of the Dumbo ride. Of course, they were all just different enough to elicit squeals of glee from Jr as we passed them by so that we felt obligated to wait in line for 20 minutes or more so he could ride the thing for all of 1.5 minutes.

4. At some point, you are going to break down and require sustenance. Luckily, Walt has arranged to have multiple food stations throughout the park and they all follow the same formula: roughly 8′ish bucks for a combo meal of some manner. Now – when you order a combo meal, typically you can expect a main course, a side, and a drink. Oh ho ho! Not here – For 8 bucks, you get a shitty, tasteless main course and a few leaves of lettuce in a bowl (they call this a “salad”). Eating the scrap food off the dirt ground of a Juarez taco stand would be more appetizing. If you want something to drink, well – that’ll cost ya an extra $2.50 – and you don’t get a refill. No, really – you don’t get a refill.

5. Does there really need to be a gift shop at the exit point of every fucking ride? How many opportunities does one really need to buy some mouse ear hats? Literally, there is a gift shop every 25-50 yards in this place. Luckily, we bought Jr a Mickey shirt before we even went, and I was able to exit the place at the end of the day without giving a nickel to any of them.

In short, the only thing magical about the “Magic Kingdom” is how it magically removes cash from the wallet. However, I will say Jr was happy at the end of it and enjoyed himself – but when I asked him today about Disney World, all he could muster up was: “Go to beach”.

Atta boy.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Reposted From Office Daze

Arthur C. Clarke’s three laws apply to my everyday life: Here’s how.

1. When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is probably wrong.
   • When my boss says something is possible it means that I should do it immediately, When I say it’s impossible it means I’m just doing it wrong.
2. The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.
   • In this case when they can’t find the possible the only way to push through the impossible is to break it and give it to me. Figuring things out is for losers and salesmen.
3. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
   • In this case my personal cell phone must look like a fairy’s fucking magic wand …you know, a long stick with a star on the top, the same kind the fairy godmother from Cinderella used to make a pumpkin into a carriage . . . I wonder if . . . nope they’re just crazy.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

There’s alotta music out there, and until we get a bona fide (or even one with at least a half-assed understanding of it) music writer on here, I plan on tossing up a handful of videos every Sunday Night. No, I won’t be reviewing them, providing any details or even telling you who they are. I’m just gonna throw ‘em up there and you can decide if it’s crap or not. Enjoy.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Dear Dude With Lack Of Cajones,

First, let me start off by saying that I can appreciate the fact the FM1431 can be a very intimidating road to travel. It is very hilly and curvy. There is indeed not a lot of room for error without the potential for sudden horrible death.Driving FM 1431 scared the crap out of me when I first moved out of town. Literally, I could not crap for an entire week.

I understand completely. To loosely quote Bullet Tooth Tony:  “Like a prick, you are having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you’ve got “Rogue” written on the back of your vehicle should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence.”

No, not everyone was born with big balls. It is nothing to be ashamed of, you obviously have a woman that likes you enough to ride in the same car. That is a start. It would be an incredibly uninteresting world if everyone were super heros.

Please know that my suggestions come without malice and are given in the spirit of helpfulness and the interest of public safety .

It is perfectly ok to drive 20 miles per hour below the posted speed limit. But, as there is a time and a place for everything, the place for inconsiderate drivers that pose potentially as traffic hazards is an area commonly known under Texas Driving Laws as The Lane That Is Not The Passing Lane. I truly believe that you could have driven in the non-passing lane, immediately following the guy that was driving 36 miles per hour in a 55 zone, without any difficulties at all. And, it would have been the polite thing to do. Texas is, after all, the Drive Friendly state. And it was intended completely in a positive and helpful manner that I extended the one-finger salute to you.

You must understand, the practice I refer to as Cock-Blocking is not only rude, but it is very impolite and unnecessary.

I know that not everyone is born with leadership skills and are able to perform in the role of Alpha Dog. I am also quite aware that as a woman Subaru driver, you might honestly mistake me for a stereotype in which I do not fit.  Just be aware that I am in dire need to get home and jump into a lake. I just ask that next time, please understand your limitations and drive in the friggin right lane.

Hugs and kisses, DorkChick

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Reposted from Office Daze…

To all of you who are MAC users and know how to use a MAC don’t worry this does not apply to you. For all of you who use a MAC just so you can join the ranks of people who know what they are doing, you should just go back to windows . . . PLEASE!! If you are unsure here is a list of what you can do so that you too can be a member of the group of people I despise.

1. When your IT support arrives, mention that you got a MAC so that you can stick it to the man (Microsoft) because MAC is way better, then be prepared to offer no support as to how you have it set up.

2. Utilize the background ability to change pictures, set it to change pictures at the smallest interval so as to give your computer that “I don’t know what I did, but it looks cool” look. Set / take / upconvert all of your pictures to the highest resolution possible, and make them all Vacation pictures and family pictures with no discernable theme.

3. Along with the ever changing background, you MUST open up Safari and at least 20 other programs, stream music, sync your iPod, and be playing Farmville for the best impact.

4. Do not turn any of that off when I remote in.

5. Before I remote in, while on the phone with you, If I ask you to go to system preferences; tell me that you don’t know where to find it because you used to be a Windows user and there is no Start button. Then leave the system preferences up so that when I do remote it you look like an idiot.

6. Tell me that your IT guy is the only one who really knows how to use a MAC, you just use it because the company reimbursed you for a new Laptop.

7. Tell me you know EXACTLY how you stored the files on your HDD then ask where “My Computer” is so you can show it to me. Get angry when I tell you there is no “My Computer” you just need to go to the HDD icon. Be sure to use windows terms and insist that only you know how to use the machine. Be sure to get extremely confused when I use what little MAC terms I know.

8. Don’t turn on ANY of the multi-touch features of the mouse, then call me up when they don’t work. Insist that I messed it up. When I get it working again ask for a tutorial of how to use them all because it’s something new that you have never seen before.

9. Be extremely contradictory.

10. Exclaim, “HUH…” when I tell you that “.exe” files will not work on your MAC. Tell me stories about how your nephew’s, son’s, cousin’s, retarded friend’s, girlfriend’s, mother’s, uncle; got it to work once and that I just don’t know anything.

Now I know that some of these do apply to windows users: parts of numbers 2, 3, and 4, but most of these are what I come across when attempting to provide outside help for MAC users . . . EVERYTIME!! Now I’m not saying I’m a guru with MAC’s, but I think I know enough about it to make something work. So if you have a MAC and need help, in order to make your IT guy’s life a living hell for the 30 minutes you are online with him . . . please follow these steps.

Oh and make sure to tell me over and over again how I’m a communist because I use windows . . . please.

Thank you

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

To whomever happens to be in charge of this piece of shit:

When one places a vending machine somewhere, the reasoning behind said placement is typically to turn some modicum of profit. The mechanism for producing profit consists of three distinct factors. Clearly, you don’t have any understanding or awareness of these factors, so I’ll list them out for easy reference.

1. You must have quality products that people actually want to purchase in the machine. When you note that a specific item tends to sell out quicker than another, it should prompt you to go through the process of ordering more of the item that sold out, not more of the shit that’s already in the machine that noone is buying. We call this basic supply and demand. To simplify it for you however, you can remember it like this: “oooh, they like dat. Get more.”

2. Let’s just assume, for the sake of shits and giggles, you actually grasped the concept presented to you in factor number 1. The second factor you need to become familiar with is the ability to handle the transaction. (For the IQ impaired, this is how you get paid, moron.) If there’s a dollar bill changer on the machine, perhaps you should ensure that it works so that people can buy some of the outstanding goodies that you finally got into the machine. This bullshit of having to come in here with a pocket bulging with singles like Pacman Jones in a strip bar is ridiculous. I’ve seen people go through eight dollar bills before this thing would take one – I’ve seen many more just say screw it and walk away without buying anything. Might be a good idea to get that fixed, genius.

3. Once the machine accepts the perfect 2007 series dollar bill with just the right amount of wrinkle, cocaine residue, glitter and sweat content and the selection has been made – what do you think should happen next? Logic dictates that a product should fall from the mechanical rotatey thing inside and down to the tray where your customer can retrieve it and add to his body fat index without delay. Not so, with your piece of shit. With your mechanical turd, the product hangs on the track, gets stuck in between the track and the glass, or it just flat out doesn’t move at all. Nice job – I’m assuming you went into this line of work because the meth lab exploded or you couldn’t land a gig scrubbing toilets at the gas station, but it’s far from rocket science and it’s time to get a handle on it.

</rant>

Hopefully this guide has assisted you in your career endeavours and I sincerely wish you a great day.

Regards,

Bob Sugar

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Three little words found on the San Antonio Riverwalk.

As written, this has a high potential for misunderstanding. Like life, the questions can be very confusing. The answers, even more so. I write this after a show on MTV called If You Really Knew Me just ended. I was watching a couple of lighthearted reality shows. You know, the kind guaranteed to lower your IQ by at least 25 points. Actually, The Real World will drop your IQ by 25 points. The Jersey Shore in Miami actually drops it at least 50. While my defenses were down, the program changed. I certainly wasn’t ready.

This show documents a program that they put on in schools called Challenge Day. Trained leaders go in to the high schools and give an interactive presentation designed to break down emotional barriers in the students that lead to peer pressure and bullying. The show is pretty intense. In fact, I thought I was going to have to leave the room because I was about to start crying. We are talking crying in epic Old Yeller proportions.

 I  don’t recall saying anything mean to others in high school, or anyone saying anything that I would consider mean to me. Quite honestly, I don’t believe someone else could actually say  anything to me even half as bad as the things I said to myself.  No one had to put me into the ‘not good enough’ box. I put myself in that box long before anyone else could. Back then, I focused a lot on what I THOUGHT other people thought of me.

Those who know me are aware of my communication style. I tend to be quite literal and occasionally abrupt. I also tend to not have a filter between my brain and my mouth, so there is generally little room to misunderstand my intentions. I prefer communicating with people like this, as well. Sure, there may still be misunderstandings, but those misunderstandings can be dealt with when they are vocalized. A few months ago, I lashed out at someone due to a misunderstanding on my part. After talking it through, I realized I really did not have justifiable grounds for my anger, and that I was being somewhat unfair. I was quick to apologize, and everything was ok.

I like reading the lines only. I am not very good with assumptions. Are you truly not answering my call because you are busy? Should I keep trying to periodically call to catch you at a good time? Is that a message that I need to back off, because you are mad at me or just don’t want to talk to me? Have I said something that has offended you? Are you just tired and don’t want to talk to anyone? I am never really sure what I am supposed to be reading between the lines, if anything. It makes me very uncomfortable. Past habits make me quick to assume the worst, usually about myself. I would rather someone speak the truth and potentially hurt feelings than be nice and potentially destroy feelings later.

Maybe I am just feeling philosophical today. Ten years ago, I turned 30. I had not met my ridiculous self-imposed goals. Turning 30 meant the end of my young, carefree adulthood. Turning 30 was not the best time of my life. Soon, I will be 40. A new decade and a new chapter. I have actually met those ridiculous self-imposed goals I had set for myself so long ago. I am not sure about this new decade, but I plan to keep an open mind, an open heart, an open soul. And, the (sometimes too) open filterless method of communication I currently employ.

We will file this under the “Rambling” category. I write very much like how I talk. Honest, but a tad bit unorganized, with no set plan. It is a roller coaster ride to see where we end up. Hell, I don’t even how this story will end. I’ll see you at the end of the ride.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

I didn't slide, these are compression marks. Slam dunks don't cause abrasions.

It finally happened.  I knew it was coming.  I didn’t know when.  I crashed.

Before I bailed out of Abilene I spent three extremely restless sober nights pacing around making plans for Austin and chatting with Frank Danger on Facebook about our sobriety and insomnia.  After the first two nights we concluded, “U suck.  Check out this youtube video about babies playing with cobras in India.”

On the third night I fired up the bike and decided I needed to ride off some of my restlessness.  The sun was low in the sky and the streets were hot and tacky.  The bike was running perfect.  After much futzing with the fuel injection, I’d finally stumbled across the right setting; air and fuel were combining beautifully.  I felt like I was 13 again and gassing my KX80 mini around a motocross track.  I slid, I jumped, I lifted the front end in a turn as a tribute to supermoto riding style.  It was a stylish manuever, leaned over for turn, front wheel four inches up and counter steered, just a perfect little natural move.  (See photo of Jeff Ward) I wasn’t showing off, I was riding, not looking for attention.  Unfortunately, I caught the attention of one of Abilene’s fascist bully boys in blue who was sitting in his oink operated blue berry topped bacon cruiser.

It's okay to wheelie in this fashion.

From inside his car, the cop raised his hands and mouthed, “What the fuck?” before he began whipping around to chase me.  I looked in my rear view and saw the lights come on and that he was halfway turned around.  I don’t recall the change in me, but I became one of the Dukes of Hazzard, Luke probably, and I decided to run.

I immediately took a right turn into an alley and proceeded to zig zag alleys at 65 mph until I was many blocks away from the street the cop was on.  I got cocky on the last zag into an alley.  Coming off the pavement, I made a snap decision to back the rear wheel into a drift, then bounce off some grass and accelerate away like a motocrosser.  It didn’t work.  I slid in nicely, but throttled too hard too early and kept sliding until I was 90 degrees perpendicular to the direction I wanted to travel.  Physics were never my forte in school but I understand that if my bike is pointing completely perpendicular to my momentum I am, by Newtonian law, pretty well fucked.  Wham.  High side.

Example of a high side crash:

My crash was similar, however I wasn’t wearing that goofy racing suit.  I was clad in a blue tee shirt and khaki cargo shorts from Old Navy.  Also, unlike the guy in the video, I didn’t let go of the clutch or the bars because I learned by age 11 that letting go of the handle bars and clutch during a crash meant the bike died and I lost position in the race trying to restart it.  I wasn’t thrown away from the crash, no momentum was slowed.  I slammed down with the bike.  Old habits die hard…  like my street bike died in an alley somewhere on the north side of Abilene.

I did get away from the law.  It’s not a big deal really.  I know cops in Abilene and it is their policy not pursue a fast motorcycle.  They get the plates and pick them up later, but they didn’t have time to see my plate.  After the crash I pushed the bike out of site in the alley and beat my forks straight on a nearby electric pole, started the bike and rode home.  Increasing pain made the law a rather moot issue.

While riding home, my right shoulder finished dislocating and I had to pop it back while traveling 40 mph.  By the time I was back at the shop, my right ankle wouldn’t move and was bleeding slightly.  I felt the bruised ribs when I pulled the garage door down.  A check of my helmet revealed it was toast.  The compression blow had driven gravel through the first ply of the fiberglass.  It would split if I crashed again.  A concussion was likely but I didn’t feel too goofy so it was a mild one.  Number 9 on the list I believe… The following day I kept getting odd typos when using my computer, repeated words, etc. etc. repeated words…

I was going to sell the bike before the crash but now I can’t.  The bike handled the crash well.  It was equipped with protection and beyond twisted handlebars, nothing vital was broken.  When I brought the bike to Austin you could barely tell it went down but  I was scabby and limping from a stab wound to my right ankle from my rear brake lever.  For a couple of days I was still digging gravel out of my elbow, leg and knee (and I think disgusting the visiting Paintslinger.)  My right shoulder is still popping in and out despite exercise, but I’m hopeful it will strengthen up.  Yesterday I rode the bike over to Shady Grove and had a three beer lunch with a friend.  The bike is fine.  Don’t worry about it.  It’s running a bit rich in Austin due to the humidity, but I’ll lean the fuel map down and it’ll act like a KX80 again.

KX80... That's what I call my EX650.

My latest KX80.

Fred Roberts

motodork

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

At some point in every man’s life, he takes a step back and has to take account of his standing and condition. Today marked that time for me.

I stepped out into the yard to talk to the guy who would be resealing my driveway. I observed his toothless grin and pitiful demeanor as he groveled for extra money on a job that he hadn’t done right twice already, and I realized now, more than I ever, that I had to get the hell out of the Midwest. I gave him an extra $60 out of pity – both due to his condition and not-so-subtle pleadings and the fact that he was just as stranded in this hellhole as I was.

The Midwest is a pitiful place. If you need any evidence of this statement, look no farther than the people and activities they hold in regard. I won’t get into the details on this but suffice it to say, we wouldn’t be talking about MENSA members at any point in the discussion. I’m not entirely sure they even have a MENSA chapter here, but if they do I’m fairly certain that it occupies a single stripmall office somewhere just north of Oolitic. The people here, by and large, are generally OK from my observations but most of them appear to be beaten down. The best way to describe them as a group is that they don’t have any “swagger” and they all seem to live in a fear of something I can’t readily discern. And I can’t discern it, because I’ve never actually taken the time to “plug in” here. When I first arrived I tried to take the time to get to know people, I tried to get an understanding of the place but it was too foreign, too weird. In other places, the “weird” is tangible, it’s like an undercurrent that threatens to carry you away, forcing you to embrace it to get back to the normal. Here it simply sits stagnant on the surface and rots everything it comes into contact with. Unfortunately, it came into contact with me and led me to the arms of some pill popping trailer trash that injected a healthy dose of crazy into my system that took years to purge. Luckily I was able to climb the walls of that well and escaped with only some minor damage to the system. However, over the course of that disaster, I managed to tear down any lasting friendships I might have built and decided to just say screw it and sit tight until I could launch my breakaway move to get back home. So basically, what it boils down to is: I’ve lived here for over 13 years, and I’m still a tourist.

I wasn’t born in Texas, but I was raised there, and even now, I expect to walk outside and smell raw crude mixed with the fragrance of bluebonnets. I always half expect to see a longhorn in one of the pastures I pass on the way to work (there are, in fact a few in one, and I’ve made it a point to take that route, every day.) I still keep an eye out for mesquite trees for branches to toss in the grill. I’ve looked in vain for edible Mexican food for the better part of a decade here and even though I can find a workable steak – it just isn’t the same as getting a 2 inch thick t-bone, cut to order, grilled over a mesquite pit and served up with some fresh corn bread, greens and a baked potato. I also long for the wide open spaces, long streaks of highway that go on for hours and the massive sky. Here, I just feel claustrophobic. The trees are like weeds in a meth heads yard. Everywhere you look, the view is obstructed by some impenetrable variation of wretched fauna.

As an aside, this is Basketball country – and even though none of the local teams here are worth a damn, the people that support them still act as though they won a championship last week. The Colts, while a fair group are no substitute for the Mighty Cowboys, even with all their dysfunction and disappointments. The Pacers try to fill the role for me with their seemingly daily dose of idiocy, but since I can’t seem to wrap my head around the game itself, their efforts are in vain. (Someone once tried to explain the ins and outs of basketball to me, but about 2 minutes in my eyes glazed over, and I can’t recall a thing he said.)

However, the things that I miss the most about Texas are the people, customs and general pace of life. To say Texans are a forgiving bunch is an understatement. In my day there, I committed a fair amount of transgressions, sins and exhibited what might be generally considered unruly behavior as a matter of course. However, the friends I had in my youth there, are my friends now and any ill will I may have mustered up there over the years seems to have been more or less forgotten, unless it’s part of a punch line – which I can live with.

Some things have gotten better here, I married a Texas girl who was gracious enough to join me in this rotten, reeking cornfield, Spoetzel Brewery finally took pity on me and started shipping Shiner recently and the new grill I anticipate getting in the next couple weeks should solve any lingering culinary issues in the short term.

FredBob just left Abilene, and I understand the reasoning behind it, but in all honesty – a windy day in Abilene, sitting on the banks of the creek on a big flat rock with nothing but a cooler full of Shiner, a few friends, some BBQ and a bowl sounds like heaven after what I’ve been through up here…

So, in short – I’m coming home soon, and I can’t wait. I feel like a kid the night before a Six Flags trip. Granted, this night will take about 5 more years, but now there’s a light at the end of the tunnel – and I’m racing towards it with the pedal to the floor.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

I could call the kid a genius, but I didn't. A rose is a rose ya know?

Recently I killed my personal Facebook page.  Simply put, not everyone needs to read, or can understand, my retarded posts. Did you hear that Sarah Palin?  That’s right.  I said, “retarded.”

“Retarded,” is a very harmful word on Facebook.  When Sarah was one of my Facebook friends I posted that dangerous retard word on my page somewhere and she found it.  Oh my god, she went totally apeshit on me.

I know Sarah, she can have her bad days and good days, just like any of us; I forgive her.  I know she was having a bad day.  She told me so in a Facebook email time-dated before she posted to my retarded remark:

10:13 AM:  ”Oh my god you won’t believe what I did last night.  I got so fucked up because I had the kid at the nanny’s all night and I needed a break from all this political bullshit… anyway, I got drunk off tequila and slept with this Mexican guy.  Holy fuck dude, what happens if I get pregnant?  Oh fuck, I can’t have an abortion unless I switch parties and I already bought all those fucking red suits…  What if it’s got Down’s too?  A Mexican Retard?  Oh shit my career is over.  Chat with me if you’re on.  I don’t know where I am so I’m just waiting for Pedro to wake up and Facebooking until this Xanax kicks in.”

She must have started scrolling around my page because shortly afterword she evidently found this twisted post of mine:

“I’d vote for her retard baby before I’d vote for Sarah, but she does look good in clothing from Dillard’s.  You know I love you Sarah.  We’ll always have that night in Cincinnati.”

Granted, I was feeling weird that night, and the post is as out there as I felt that evening, but I felt because of its hyperbolic qualities it was perfectly safe for Facebook.  Sarah had a different opinion and left it on my mechanic’s Facebook under a question I left him about a power steering pump:

“I can’t believe I would befriend a monster like you Richard Peter Johnson (my real name).  You are the most two faced, evil person I have ever met!  OMG!  How dare you!  And you think that is funny?  I’ll pray for your soul you poor wretched man.”

At 10:53 AM I get this email from Sarah, but typed by Xanax:

“u moterfucker! im gonno kik ur fuckn ass the next timje I fuck you up fight you.  no more masterbatin cam show for you fukr!!! I FUKN HAT YOOOU!!!”

Suddenly, well about 36 hours later when I came down, I logged onto Facebook and had an angry group of retarded supporters harassing me about the mentally challenged anguish of their re-tard babies.  Sarah, wired on Ritalin for 24 hours, had called in her dogs.  They got so worked up that they created a Facebook page specifically as a forum to rip me apart because I like the word, “retard.”  This was emailed, Facebooked, blogged on, texted and Twitted to all the retarded twits they could find.  In a day and a half, my retarded remarks snowballed into a Fox News pro-Palin segment that mentioned my Facebook page and how an ugly little man’s words spawned this swell of support for Sarah’s Dillard’s Catalog brain and her sympathy sucking retard baby.  Bill O’Reilly  whipped my corpse for fifteen minutes.  The bastard even called my mom and got her to cry on the air.  (Mom told me the producers told her that I was found dead wearing a dress)

And all of this for a goofy remark left on Facebook about re-tards…

Which by the way, if you’re pro-retard as we are at ADZ, you should be understand retards don’t know when they should be offended.  Retards are gloriously un-self conscious.  They don’t care if they’re wearing a Larry the Cable Guy tshirt, orange polyester pants with white loafers and a skateboard helmet inside the mall.  All retards know is that they get a Coastal Cookie on mall day and soon they’ll be back at MHMR, happily jerking off to the Golden Girls on the community television.  Retards have the life.  I’m jealous.  It’s the semi-intelligent that are in hell and should garner our sympathy.

My point, I guess, is Sarah has no business reading my Facebook and she’s too retarded to understand that when I’m drunk or on a visit to Jesus Ranch, I am fond of hyperbole.  It’s too much work to thoroughly explain my every word to those who take personal offense to my whimsical Facebook remarks. But Sarah, if you’re reading this, my son doesn’t mind when I call him retarded, he’s just like his dad in that way.  He calls me Turdwig.  Don’t forget the Hot Wheels when you drop him off this weekend.  Me and the boy likes some cars…

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

As some free time has opened up, I’ve revisited the task of rebuilding the Winopso Free Software Directory. That extension to this site remains unfinished, but should be available sometime in the next few months. In anticipation of the rebirth of that pithy portion of what we do here, I’ve put together a short list of useful tools for your system. Without further adieu, here is a list of titles for your system that you may find immediately useful, in no particular order:

1. Mozilla Firefox: With a solid, speedy core and a plethora of add-ons to fine-tune how you work on the web, Firefox is the de facto standard today in web browsing. Chrome and Opera are both faster, but lack the vast library of add-ons available with Firefox – and in terms of speed, what we’re really talking about is a few milliseconds one way or another – I’ll take the functionality over the negligible speed gain. As with any other web browser, you’ll find some incompatibilities with certain sites – primarily in the area of government and corporate sites that are tuned for Internet Explorer. Why do Gov’t and Corporate sites like IE? Because it’s bloated, slow and tedious to use, in short – it’s familiar territory.

2. Paint.NET: Originally commissioned by Microsoft as a replacement for it’s dismal Paint image editor that ships stock with Windows, Paint.NET has developed into a legitimate contender in image editing. Granted, it isn’t geared towards “professional” image editing, however it can yield professional results. This program sports tabbed image editing, extensions, layers and many other features that allow anyone to manipulate images easily and intuitively. Why MS didn’t adopt this as their default editor is still a mystery.

3. FileZilla: Not a need for everyone out there, but for anyone that hosts a website or needs access to files on a remote server and have FTP access, Filezilla is the way to go. Fast, solid and reliable and appropriately visually unappealing, on par with a many other open source projects, but it works – so whatever.

4. DexPot: Dexpot allows you to create multiple workspaces that you can access with the click of a mouse. You can organize different desktops for different needs, or if in the office to switch between a game of solitaire and that spreadsheet you should be working on. of course, there are more practical uses for something like this, but we try to be realistic here…

5. CCleaner: Without rival, this is a must for any system. CCleaner allows you to clean up all the random detritus that tends to bog down a system over time in addition to boasting an excellent registry cleaner and program uninstaller. Very effective in erasing your tracks when you “accidentally” find yourself in one of those dark corners of the web. That’s it for now, but I’ll add some more later as I find things worthy of mention.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

It's just a number, a high number...

A few days ago I turned 40 years old.  To some this age brings about fear and crisis.  I’m neither scared of the age nor in danger of a mid-life crisis.  Still, I wasn’t looking forward to turning forty. My life was ugly and forty felt like a pair of concrete shoes.  Failures seemed mounting, regrets reared like acid flashbacks, my body ached almost constantly; I thought life would be over at 40.

Then a month away from my fortieth birthday my dreadful life exploded. Details are unnecessary.   The darkest period of my life was behind me and I was as hopeful as when I left for Austin the first time, at seventeen, about a month before my birthday.  I had come full circle.  Life was beautiful again.  Everything felt right and fell into place like a perfect story.  My fortieth year marked this change.  I could hardly hate the age since it brought me to the life I wanted.

I spent the eve of my birthday having drinks at the Touch of Class bar with an artist friend who goes by “The Paintslinger,” (ADZ’s resident artist and Mango Orange Juice contributor,) chatting about this forty number.  We mused about many aspects of our age as I drank four or five giant Shiner drafts and she sipped a bottomless vodka tonic.  Perhaps it was the drinks, but the time continuum faded and we hopped around the past, the now, and the future.

The Paintslinger's work.

Past regrets were confessed.  The Slinger reminded me there is no time to look back.   The moment seemed the place to be. The company was excellent and the Shiner was smooth, to think of any other moment but now would be flat stupidity.

“Cheers.”

Future considerations are just that, considerations.  We considered them.   The future never comes to us as the future, it comes as the now and goes as quickly as the past.

At closing time, the point seemed to be: Now Is the Time.  During the higher readings of my youth I ran across some ideas about being in the moment that I have clung to over the years that always ran counter to most American ideals of work, play and importance.  For some odd reason, I felt I no longer had to pay any token regard to ideals I didn’t create for myself in my forty long years.  Maybe it was the beer…

Midnight in the parking lot of now, The Slinger wished me happy birthday and gave me the gift of a friendly birthday peck on the cheek.  I felt a crazy gratitude for the gift.  I firmly believe her friendly gesture sent me into my forties with luck.  The Slinger being an artist, unconsciously arranges things in a beautiful way.  Her artistry painted the perfect ending to my youth and the perfect beginning to my mature rebirth.

More Slinger.

Ridiculous confidence, rare in my thirties, swelled inside me.  I felt strong, alert and alive.  As I strapped on my helmet I thought, “I am older, but this is the first time I have felt wiser.”

Then i went to start my bike but I couldn’t find the key.  It wasn’t in my pocket or the ignition.  The Slinger had driven away, and my cell phone was in the shop at home.  I thought I forgot the key inside the bar, but the door was locked.  I ripped off my helmet in anger.  The key fell to the ground.  A quick vision of telling my grandmother the glasses she searched for were on her head, followed by the memory of sticking the key between the helmet padding and my head as I buckled up, completely humbled me for a moment.

Yep.  The time is now.  Apparently my brain is fading fast but I still like being forty.  The age is a gift.  At this advanced age, I have the wisdom, enlightenment, and confidence, or at least the rationalization skills, to believe without question what that mouthy kid in me has been trying to tell me for the last twenty years.

“You’re weird.  Quit trying to prove otherwise.”

I wasted a bunch of time trying to make my life appear normal to loved ones who worried about me.  I wasted a bunch of time doing things I was patted on the back for, but hated doing and hated myself for doing it.  That was my thirties, wasted time.  Fuck ‘em.  I’m done with those years. I’m forty damn years old, there’s not much time left…  I’m free.

Fred Roberts

40 Year old Weirdo  and friend of:   http://www.thepaintslinger.com/  Muralist/Artist

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Once upon a time there was an actor that I could never like named John Cusack. Every movie he would star in was a huge turd in the swimming pool of summer to me. 2012 was a total piece of over rated, over computer enhanced junk. And what were the other flicks he was in? Oh, yes, one can never forget the movies High Fidelity, and Being John Malkovich. High Fidelity, being a total waste of about 90 minutes, and I could never wrap my head around the whole Malkovich wanting to be thing. What! I’m already there. Mid life, bald, and a desire to have someone else gain entry to my brain via a 13th floor office that has a ceiling height of less than 4 feet and is staffed by lesbians, one of which is my girlfriend who wants to be John Malkovich so they can screw each other. Well, maybe I’m not quite there, but you catch my drift.

Then comes along a movie called Hot Tub Time Machine, and all of the sudden, I like John Cusack. This movie also stars Clark Duke, from the movie Superbad, Craig Robinson (the token black guy), from Pineapple Express (the hit man). Ron Corddry, from Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay….

Okay, you know what? I just realized that maybe John Cusack didn’t make this movie, these other supporting guys pulled it off for him, but it works because he just happened to be there.
Anyway, again, maybe this movie talks to my generation because were all mid-lifer’s that would like to have the chance to go back in time to fix whatever it is that we didn’t know what the fuck went wrong with our lives to begin with. This is one of those feelie goodie movies, where everything works out because we all got drunk and stoned and pretty much made the same mistakes we made in the first place, but somehow just because we went back and did them all over again, our lives became better because the biggest loser of the group decided to stay behind to try and fix (get himself rich) all of the things that he could.

Damn!! Did I just give the whole movie away for those of you that have not seen it yet??

Ahh… Who gives a damn!? If you didn’t already know the ending I don’t think that I have blown it for you yet.

All I have to say is, prepare to feel good about this movie if your a dude. It is one of those mindless flicks that tend to preoccupy us with young perky breast, hot tubs, comedy, squirrels, and a bear mascot that likes to party with the guys.

The best scene is when these jokers all get into the hot tub right before they go back in time. Everything after that is just pre typed silliness that you can only figure out right before it happens.

I give it two thumbs and a jimmy up.

Your respected movie editor~Leo Bloom

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

I don’t usually ponder the silly things in life, except for the garbage that they try to overcharge you with by pawning it off in 3-D.  If the movie was good to begin with, why use a cheap gimmick to sell it.  I give you a twenty-bone, and you hand me the cheap blue and red lensed goggles.  This all reminds me of when I saw Jaws 3 in 3-D and brings back why even if the movie sucks, we will go see it just because somewhere in the movie, there will be an arm floating in the water three inches from your nose, just to sell the damn thing.  Now I have gone and done it, pissed off the whole entertainment industry, and I hope not for the last time. 

The good thing about these movies, is that I saw them like they were supposed to be seen.  On an airplane, with the little bitty screen set in the headrest in front of me, and a pair of headphones.  May I underline the quote, “NOT IN 3-D”!! 

Now, off to “How to Train Your Dragon”.  Well, the only thing I could figure out about this flick is that you can not train a dragon, they will probably train you.  I like the slick effects of the digital animation, and I always have since the first days of  “Toy Story”. The difference between Toy Story and Dragon is that Toy Story actually was entertaining and was not propped up with the 3-D pretext.  This means that Toy Story actually had to have meaningful stuff in it, like a plot, and some humor to carry the whole story, and make you want to watch it.  How to Train Your Dragon had none of these attributes, and frankly, I’m glad I did not get to see it in 3-D because it was actually a good background noise for me to fall asleep in the plane while I did not watch it.

And then there was “Alice In Wonderland”.  This one came on during diner, and I was eating my chicken fritters when I saw Depp and those psychotic green eyes all dilated out, and then I noticed that all of the characters in the movies eyes were dilated.  Was this a flashback of a wild whirlwind drive thru Texas that was revisiting me in my most delicate moment?  At times like this, the cattle car of a 747 gets awful claustrophobic and I wished that I never took that LSD during that field trip to Kansas in the late 80′s.   I can only imagine what this one would be like to watch in 3-D, as I imagine that  the fucked up tea party rabbit is humping my leg while eating my chicken fritters, and trying to break the plastic cup that they served my single soda in.  All the while, Depp is talking in this screwy falsetto voice that sets me on edge.  Although the Big Head chick gets props, just for letting herself be filmed that way.  Eh, I guess that’s where the big money comes in, and why I’m not making it.  That kind of humiliation is not my forte.  Is this article still going on, and are you actually reading it?  Jesus, you guys must be as bored as I am.  I must seriously pretend to be doing something better than what I’m doing now. 

Anyway, the moral of this story is, “If the movie is in 3-D, chances are, it’s not really worth seeing to begin with.  But if you don’t believe your ole’ friend Leo, you don’t have to”.  Leo is just trying to set you straight.  And like Leo always likes to say, “There’s a reason why your whole life is a distraction, and why your mental abilities are overloaded with useless junk like crappy movies, prime time television,  and Super Wal Marts.  Because, deep down inside, we all just wanna be a sucker.”  Just bend over, start Moo’ing, and eat the grass like everyone else around you.  Life is so much easier that way.

Moo bitch, Moo!!

Your respected friend~Leo Bloom

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

About three weeks back now, it’s hard for me to tell actually, I went on vacation.  It had been a long time since I got a good break and I needed the release.  Like most good patriotic Americans, I spent the time staying as drunk as possible in new locations.  It was a perfect vacation.

Or was it?  I couldn’t tell you honestly.  Someone would have to interview the people who witnessed my debauchery and report back to me and tell me if it was good fun.  I had some fun, that much I know, but so many memories blur together in a haze of beer and vodka lemonades I really couldn’t tell you all the details without a time machine.  Judging from a few haunting memories that pop into my consciousness, I might not want to know what all I did.  Well, there is no “might.”  I don’t want to know.  The last clear memories I have of my vacation involved being told that a sheriff was on his way for me, followed by a blur of dangerous rainstorm driving which ended with me in a moldy motel room deep in the hood of North Austin at two AM.  When I woke the following morning, the room smelled of mildew, the air conditioner whined up and down like a dying prop engine and Barney blared on the television.  I had passed out in all my clothes and used a hard shell motorcycle backpack for a protective barrier between my exposed face and whatever bacteria lurked in the green old pillows.  My head pounded and my stomach burned from some forgotten ingestion.  A quick scan of my phone made me ill…

The party began on the highest of notes, with honor and grace.  It ended with me puking in a jade green toilet located in room 140 at the Bangladesh Motor Court off 290 East.  It was over.  Any more vacation would kill me.  Time to get to work again, and the first order of business was to retire to my new rear patio and listen to the rain for two days.

Sometime during the vacation though, again in the haze, I moved the ADZ offices from the swank Three Points Complex in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado to a nondescript home in South Austin, Texas.  Abilene DorkZine has a long history of moving in the night.  The type of journalism we prefer forces us to move frequently, but I think we’ll be in Austin for a good while.  It’s really the best place for us.  Austin has a long history of fantastic weirdos and the list just got a little longer.  It feels immediately like home.  Austin understood my need to lay low for two days while I tried to piece together three weeks of alcoholic destruction.

What’s that tired old line about destruction and creation?  Shit, I can’t remember.  Doesn’t matter.  Abilene DorkZine is starting over in Austin.  So am I.  I just had to put the cap on the old place.

I’ll be posting again soon.  There is a great deal of moving work to do so posts will be sporadic for a while.  Once settled in the new Austin digs, expect good things.  Austin has a way of inspiring.  Personally I feel alive here, which is good, because after my vacation some memories were making me want to die.  But nuff that noise…

Join us in Austin.  We’re keeping it weird.

Fred Roberts, ADZ Editor and Drunken Dumbass

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Let’s face it. Vampires are hip right now and there are several vampire movies and series out there, with varying levels of success. Probably the best of the bunch was Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, but in terms of sheer entertainment value Trueblood takes the prize.

However, when you have a “best” there must also be a “worst”, and coming dead last by at least a few miles is a pile of steaming horseshit by the name of Twilight. It literally has no redeeming value on any level with the possible exception of the soundtrack – which is only marginally less putrid. I had struggled with the appeal of this movie for a while, but it all came into focus after viewing the following post: Here’s the original post from The Oatmeal, and a video adaptation from Epipheo Studios.

Winopso / Abilene DorkZine

Mas...