fat flat rollin'.

HEY-O!
me and my too-long-absent ace active answerer,
beau,
just powered down a double barrelled turbo-tube,
each,
of a couple of whole entire large and in charge jumbo-sized
furious, ferocious shark gluttonous flatbread pizza pies.
...for our F*ing faces, mutha-b!tches.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one uncircumcised entire flattieboombattiebread per face,
to be precise, SON!
that's right.
uncut,
and rolled up like a barbarian burrito.
right down the hatch?
uh-huh.
we doo-doo that overachieving eating action.
manly men do manly masticated mayhem,
whenever they get together to get it together.
solid.
***********
XI-mas shopping?
over and out, neighbors.
donez-o.
there are no piles that resemble sheistiness,
in any form.
more importantly,
the stockings are fully flippin' stuffed.
and that's really the mark of a worthy warrior of
gratitude and generosity.
anybody can drop a cache of cash
on a great big somethin'-somethin'.
it's the pure genious of an accurately accented stocking
that separates the experts from the waterbabies.
spoiled rotten over the top treats in a big sock
are what's up.
recognize.
tune in tomorrow,
and i'll finally unveil the mummified monster mitt
we unearthed during the archaeological excavation
underneath the nothing room.
i've waited long enough to debut this thing.
once there's photogenial lightsources to illuminate
the horrific appendage,
i'll gladly share it with all y'all.
crime scene sh!t, duders,
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

the big change-up.

winter seems like it's already here,
but it really doesn't start until later on this week.
and i'm tellin' all y'all:
i don't like early birds in any circumstances.
from worm-grabbing, to tag sales,
to out-in-front first-in-line queue queers hoping for
pre-admission to whatever isn't going to happen until
the actual designated start time,
all the way (especially) to the onset of so many months
of shivering and extra blankets.
word up.
i mean,
do you duders take solace
in the solstice's soulless desolation?
awwwwww.
c'mon.
who can hang out with the blackout attack cycle
of rhythmless circadian dirge-type jammie-jams?
what's up, my ninjas;
we're creeping up on the official wintry jump-off
of a barren, bleak, windy, brutal season.
oh, stop it.
and it's so cold outside the heat keeps turning on,
even with the woodstove roaring it's combusted
ferocious fuego activation.
for serious, neighbors.
the dedicated firmament location planagram constellation
amalgamation sensation is less than 72 hours away.
huh?
what am i talking about??
i'm talking about this thursday,
i'm talking about the first day of winter,
i'm talking about the one year countdown-mark
to the megadeth-style extinction brink breakdown.
up here in the mountains,
dawn gives way to dusk with only the briefest
glimpses into daylight's early shine an' that.
it's dark after lunch,
but it isn't that bright between the crack of morningtime
and breakfast, either.
the plummeting mercury is to be expected,
just not very appreciated.
30 degrees Farenheit is plenty cold, right?
yeah.
NO degrees just seems like showing off.
if there has to be a ZERO somewhere,
i'd prefer it be one of our fresh-to-death
zombie destruction rifles.
that's the truth.
***********
capricorn is almost upon us.
coinciding with the soul-crushing solstice,
the half-goat half-fish frankenstein's barnyard monster
is occupying the skies until late january.
i'm reppin' that mountain goat/brook trout action,
a woodsly goodness adaptive hybrid horrorshow.
and my darling daughter maple is doo-dooing the same.
listen up, friends-
i'm about to have double daughters in double digits.
i can feel the lightning-strike shock-straight fright-whitened
follicles falling off the top of my dome as i type.
old and busted is what i look like,
the new hottness is what i act like.
broke as a bad joke,
uglier than a bad accident,
but dope as F*,
from deep down bottom-dollar bets
to high-falutin' fire and fury.
a grey, gay fishgoat freakshow keeping it on full blast,
savage, berserker barbarian warrior poetry,
all the way to eleven,
all the mutha-flippin' time.
and that time is right now, just like always.
hard times, short days, long nights, all of that;
never quiet, never soft.....

stuffed stockings.

XI-mas mayhem, my ninjas!!
it's pretty much in F*ing full effect.
and it's affecting my whole wide realm
of woodsly goodsly gratitude and generosity.
uh-huh.
those sheisty piles worm their way into my brain.
now i'm waking up in the deepest darkest
dregs of december nighttime on that
blitzkrieg brainstorming last-minute gift explosion.
word up, neighbors.
if you think it's easy,
you should probably think again.
i mean,
it's about doing it better than y'all, after all.
y'know?
and if the futuristic festival of hot fire and fresh flavor
doesn't go to eleven?
c'mon.
i can't even allow myself to wonder, duders...
*
have you been to the FOLKLOFT yet?
no?
jeeeez,
why not?
you need to get some super sexy mountain magic
expert activation for your faces, don't ya?
yes.
yes, you do.
***********
the countdown to waterbaby-town is underway.
connecticut, y'all.
the nutmeg spiciness for your constitution, an' that.
family togetherness.
berfday funtimes.
lefthand highway exits.
all that.
time is running out,
time is flowing in.
it's all really happening,
all the time;
never quiet, never soft.....

tight stacks.

duders,
the presentation of gifts is a b!tch.
i mean,
the presentation in terms of amounts,
and not my impeccable wrapping style.
...obviously.
you already know i rep on a crisp cornered
metallic foil foolproof concealment situation.
i'm talking about sheisty piles, yo.
i get those parental pangs of bad dadhood
when the over-the-top activation isn't
taking off into uncharted levels of spoiled bratitude an' that.
i'm serious.
i deal in quantifiable amounts.
and a short stack attack is equivalent to less loving feelings.
huh?
yeah, well,
you can shove your reasons for the season right up your A*.
i keep it darkman in my Xmas.
y'know:
that 'hood flavorful DMXmas-type sh!t.
whaaaaaaaaaaat?
i keep it avaricious like it's delicious.
what can i say, my ninjas?
i don't buy my friends,
but i do rent those loving feelings from my family.
yep.
i doo-doo that festive sh!t.
***********
it's a saturday night,
and it's all the way live for sure.
home alone, again,
eating too much,
drinking that rootin' tootin' beer,
and being oh-so-merry.
believe it;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Folk Loft.

that's right, kids.
FolkLoft.com.
that's where the cool kids go to get the good stuff.
my digital duder,
my busy business partner,
my homeboy mr. steve rovetti,
made the computer robobotronic magic activate!
now you've got a spot to get what we've got.
you want woodsly goodness?
we GOT woodsly goodness.
electronic hottness that goes to eleven?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
FolkLoft.com, neighbors.
get on it;
never quiet, never soft.....

n.g.f.l.

barbarian battle beast?
yeah.
berserking?

maybe.
it's a sunny friday morning in
our ideal idyllic setting.
the woodsly goodness gets more awesome
after a sh!tskid sunless rainy day is done.
you know,
without the bitter, an' that.
*
our nothing room is fast becoming a something room.
okay, okay,
i'll explain it...
for all you ninjas who haven't had the pleasure
of touring the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
we have a nothing room.
that's right.
it has six doorways in a narrow space.
what can you do with a room like that?
c'mon.
nothing.
but NOW, neighbors,
our heroic handymen have activated some epic expertism
and one of those doorways has disappeared
into more room where there was a mudroom.
mostly,
because two mudrooms is too many,
and although that's normally the right amount
of everything,
we want to make something out of nothing.
and that's a thing.
it's still happening,
but the holes in our house are being healed,
and the future of spatial spanning is here.
it's all really underway,
under construction,
and under the radar of our actual neighbors.
we're like that.
***********
XI-mas shopping, suckas.
i'm almost done.
as usual,
i've captured the real spirit of the holiday season.
yuuuuup.
big ol' heaped bunches of boxes filled with treats!!
yessir.
i gave in and i started wrapping.
and what i saw made me pretty psyched.
plentiful piles.
copious quantities.
teeming trails of mutha-F*ing treats, son!
what i lack in mudrooms,
i've made up for in metallic foil paper and bows.
that's what's up.
the stockings aren't as stuffed as they could be,
however,
and my competitive complex compels me
to pack 'em up right tight with stuffs.
i know, y'all.
but my inner nature is infinite,
and nature always wins.
here's to victory;
never quiet, never soft.....

wintry mixing.

neighbors,
what's up with the spirits and memories
of the woodsly goodness getting comfy-cozy
in cahoots with the coconspiring holiday spirit?
i'm serious, y'all.
a severe surge in appropriate actions
for active participation is well underway up here.
huh?
i'm not dressing up as an abominable snowman.
what's that?
uh-uh.
i'm not riding in a one-horse open sleigh.
no.
c'mon.
i want you to just wait and i'll explain...
wrapped gifts wreak havoc on my sense
of accurate accountable amounts
and my inherent, pathological necessity for more.
y'know?
it's XI-mas after all;
it should go to eleven.
just sayin'.
a weak-sauce pile is not a masterful mountain.
not once, not never.
and a worthy warrior of shopping until dropping
is honor-bound to overwhelm his foes,
and his fellow recipients of noeltime cheer,
with expertly-selected luxuries, trinkets, and gewgaws.
yeah.
that happens.
and you merry mutha-yuleloggers know it-
XI-mas is a demanding little b!tch.
guys,
being a consumate gift-giving viking appreciation
magnate for gratitude and generosity
takes a whole bunch of effort and forethought.
all that really means is a lot of second list peoples
are gonna be beat for treats this time around.
awwwwwwwww, man.
you ninjas know about the second list?
it's like flying standby.
it's like a 'weather-permitting' notice.
and for the record-
the second list is still only for mutha-lickers who're
ON the real list,
and not OFF THE LIST.
it's just that the honor roll call
is divided into two columns-
family,
and friends.
and this year,
half the family doesn't rank treats either.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
we rep a hard-style.
fact.
and we don't worry too much about being naughty.
don't be bummed out if you don't get a package.
i still like you maybe,
just in a negligible dollar amount.
***********
that ol' thor's day thunder is here.
uh-huh.
in the form of premeditated precipitation.
as in- nature thought about how to F*
with the A* of the woodsly goodness,
and decided on puking slurpees down on
all the windswept stormblown business
in these cold and dismally depressing mountains.
ugh.
that soulless solstice sh!t sucks all the balls, y'all.
except for the part about it being my kid's birthday.
that part is okay.
otherwise?
yep.
a deep darkness is in effect.
i know, yo,
it'll start brightening in a week or so,
but until that day?
doo-doo buttery shadowland suckiness
is what's a-poppin' in the realm.
we'll see what happens.
today is most probably the day.
it usually is, isn't it?
yeah;
never quiet, never soft.....

criminal minded?

considered armed (obviously)
and dangerous, muth-'uckas.
verbally abusive, as well.

officer fiona rovetti was kind enough to
bring this poster to my attention.
neighbors,
what do you know about aiding and abetting?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup;
never quiet, never soft.....

F* the po-lice

guess who got a bullsh!t speeding ticket today?
yuuuuuuuup.
it's a long story,
but suffice to say my ninja bag was wide F*ing open,
and that 'hood goodness came a-poppin' right out.
i'll be taking that battle royale business to court.
yep.
barbarian brutality by the roadside, neighbors.
i don't like b!tches playin' with the truth.
on the ones, y'all,
it's all really happening,
and i don't need some flexibly dutiful duders
doo-dooing some impromptu fundraising at my expense.
not cool.
***********
okay.
so i spent the whole day being furious about injustice,
but i also spent the day shooting guns!
and spanning a little afterhours time at the gun shop.
yes, i did.
firing off some hot lead headshots right in the faces
of our very own ZERO targets,
and doing some semi-heavy lifting at the build site
for the rifles we know and love for their excellent
zombie defense capabilities.
uh-huh.
it's been a day, duders.
and i've had about all i can fit into it.
the law tried to F* my A* today,
but i clenched it shut,
and the story is due to be continued;
never quiet, never soft.....

12-12.

double up on that 12 gauge goodness, guys.
what?
the date, duders.
it's a good one.
...for a monday.
i'm staggering around,
stunned, stunted, and bummed out
by the aftermath of the full moon.
i mean,
it was barely any less bright last night, neighbors.
and i got barely any more sleep.
nighttime is the right time to enjoy that wolfen sh!t,
but the veritable virtues of werewolfen wide-awakefulness
are few and meager compared to the victorious
vitality, vim, and elan of a well-rested warrior poet.
i'm serious.
a sleepy wolfman is a far-less berserk wolfman.
heavy lids and sluggish feet make for a hardly hard-style situation.
awwwwwwww, man!
hardily, heartily howling for a double dose of dopeness?
i feel like the sandman put silvered sleepy-seeds in my eyes
or some sh!t, mutha-uckas.
that's a hot pile of weak sauce for my face.
aaaaaaaand,
it's flippin' freezing like the arctic an' that.
yeah.
and the construction-created cavity in my house
is leaking heat like a suppurating wound.
ouch.
that's gross,
but so is 12 x 12,
and that's today, innit?
fitting?
uh-huh.
oooohhhh!
c'mon.
you like it.
*
it's the woodsly goodsly weekend again already.
one last day of dominating some 'splosive tatt-a-rrhea,
and a couple of sun-ups and sun-down showdowns
all to ourselves.
it's darker than dark,
even earlier than ever,
and time is running out, kids.
XI-mas is creepin' up,
connecticut is callin' us,
(taunting and jeering, really)
and all the rest of it is heaped on extra heavy.
it's all still happening...really;
never quiet, never soft.....

c'mon!

full circle.
i'm talking about the mirrorball sphere in the sky.
yep.
the moon was magnificently majestic last night.
even some haunted hottness-type clouds
were hanging out to reflect and refract that heavenly glory.
it was almost alien-abduction intensity, neighbors.
those wolfen jauns in my brains and veins
were feeling a little floodlit and exposed,
and that sort of revealing battle-beastliness just so happens
to mix well with late-night active participation business.
hangin' out at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
appreciating the subtle nuances of nature,
and the not-so-subtle displays of victory.
nature wins is all i'm sayin', y'all.
just look at this striking viking view:

uh-huh.
tight and bright, b!tches.
a blinding beacon of guiding light in the night.
unearthly auras and sh!t were emanating all over the flippin' place,
and the bitter cold was injected deep into the bones of the
mountains and the roots of the woodsly goodness.
so the spirits and memories were swirling in the woodsmoke,
and illuminating the secrets and mysteries of the moonbeams;
but,
for all the raging gypsy mysticism,
the berserker barbarianism was a little lacking....
so we did what duders since forever have done.
that's right, my ninjas...
...we activated the hot fire!
teleport:

fuego a-go-go.
home improvements always leave lots of
timber, lumber, tinder, and extra-special cedar shakes
for that eleventh-level incensed incandescence.
word up.
my coat and my scarf smell like that winter woodland magic.
which is to say: dope!
***********
it's a sunny sunday in the north, my friends.
there're tattbombs to explode,
there're XI-mas gifts to wrap,
there is real life leaking out all over the place.
i've even got a candle called 'mistletoe kisses'
putting that holiday stank all up on my workspace, son.
that's a thing.
it smells exactly like comfort an' that.
you should come over and take a sniff, suckas.
i would.
*
today is the day, same as always, same as it ever was.
the moon is on the leeward side of savagery,
but there's still a little wolfen sorcery inside of it.
i can feel the nutrients.
no joke.
it's all really happening, buddy.
that's the whole point.
pay attention;
never quiet, never soft.....