I originally started this blog because Jack insisted (blame him, not me). I've lead a pretty interesting life and have shared some of my stories with Jack, he thought I should share them with the rest of the world. Since I've began this blog, I've gotten to "know" some of y'all pretty well. I have had numerous phone conversations with several of you and have exchanged e-mail with I don't know how many. I consider a lot of y'all friends, even though I've never met any of you. Not for lack of wanting to mind you, it's just life seems to get in the way of things, sometimes.
The problem is my blog has gone in a different direction than I wanted it to. In the beginning, I threatened to share my many opinions with you. I've only shared a few. It seems I have let myself become concerned with other peoples feelings and the fear of losing my readership. Some might call that growing and maturing, but since I suffer from arrested development (I'm still mentally 16) I know that can't be right. I know it's pure greed and conceit. I want to keep all my readers, every last one of them, because when y'all read my drivel, I KNOW I'm great. I'm a FUCKING ROCKSTAR. I feel, however that I am losing my Rockstar good looks and fading into a washed-up-has-been, because I have censored myself. My blog has gone from tales of my glorious past to stories of my mundane present. I've switched from pimping to parenting. That sucks.
My stories used to involve gangsters, thugs, and cops. Oh my. Now my stories are about my mom who has cancer (she does, she doesn't, she does, she doesn't), could somebody please make up their fucking mind. Guess what, lots of people have cancer. What makes my moms story any different from anybody else's? I'll tell you what. Nothing. Not. A. Damn. Thing. I've told you the story about Trash Jr's miracle birth. That was closely followed by the seemingly never ending saga of Jen's miscarriage. I told you about Trash Jr. getting assaulted with a spray bottle while at school. I could go on and on, but I won't. Inanna's dad is likely in worse shape than my mom and Savanna has it worse than any of us. This are people that really need your hopes and prayers. Not me, I just need your laughter and praise. I'm not trying to trivialize other peoples hardships. I just don't think I need to add mine to the pile.
This is the way I see it. We're all broke. We all have illness in our families. Everybody but me is depressed. If it weren't for bad luck none of us would have any luck at all, etc. etc. etc. I want to take my blog back to it's original destination. I want to tell you about my wild times not my mild times. That's why I'm making some changes around here.
In the future I'm going to try and stick to the fun stuff, the gritty beginnings of the Rockstar you have to grown to love. The Trashman. That's right, I'm going on a world wide comeback tour. I won't be doing any of your old favorites, but I will be doing new and original stuff. Stuff guaranteed to piss you off and make you laugh. If you like it, great; if you don't, great. I don't care (just between you and me, I really do care but don't tell anybody else).
The problem is, my stories are limited to a few hundred. So when I run out of them, I'll either have to retire or start making shit up. Retiring is out of the question, because I need the attention, so I guess I'll just have to make shit up. Don't worry, you'll never know when I start lying. That's one of the things I inherited from my dad.
From time to time I might sneak in a story about the family, but I won't get to carried away. Nope from now on it's going to be fun, fun, fun and danger, lots of danger, oh and sex, drugs, and rock & roll.
Jack, are you cop enough to come and get this one? I didn't think so. If you do come after me, Rambo will be waiting for you.
RAMBO
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