Lowell Is Back!

Well, I;ve finally got around to writing about my golf weekend. I would've written on Monday, but I had a hard time getting out of bed (or off the sofa once I awoke). Yesterday, I still had a lot of porn to download so I decided to wait until today.

I played an awful lot of golf last weekend. 18 holes on Thursday; 36 on Friday; 36 on Saturday and another 18 on Sunday. And, boy did I swing a lot - and not just on the golf course, he he he. I'm kidding of course, except for the traditional Saturday night anal raping of all new participants. And, unless you go first or second, it's just not all that much fun anymore.

Anyway, on to the golf. Thursday's round was my best of the weekend. I shot a 105 which is very good for me. Friday morning was a different story. We played the Gailes, a Scottish style course similar to the one played in the British Open. I don't remember what I got, but I do know it was a lot. Then we played a 2-man scramble Friday afternoon and my partner and I shot a 16 over par - not very good. Saturday morning was another disaster as I shot around a 130 on the same course I had the 105 on Thursday. Saturday afternoon was a 4-man scramble and we shot an even par round. We only had 2 birdies and 2 bogies. I did drain a putt that was about 60 feet (this will get longer each time I tell it) long and up an embankment. That was our first birdie and it came on the hardest hole of the course. We finished in third place. First place came in at 4 or 5 under par. Saturday night we ate at the course and had a very good meal. Choices were between steak, perch and smothered chicken. I chose the perch and it was very good. After dinner we played Texas Hold-Em (there was no anal rape - I was making a little joke). I didn't last long. I lost a hand with pocket Queens (the winner had 2 pair) and then went all in on the very next hand with pocket Jacks. I lost to a pair of Kings. I decided not to re-buy in because of the consecutive losses. I had to retire to the "row of losers" - a line of chairs away from the table from which to observe the rest of the game. Sunday morning we played the Gailes again and I did just about as bad as I did on Friday morning.

I had a weird dream last night. I dreampt that most of my friends had decided that I was no longer necessary and that I should be killed. But they didn't want to kill me themselves, so they decided to frame me for murder and hope I got the death sentence. One of my friends, I'll call him Barnabas, when into hiding. The rest of them told the police that I had an argument with Barnabas and that I must have killed him. I had to go on the lam. As the police began to get close, I decided that I wasn't going to go quietly. So I went back, found Barnabas, and shot him in the head. That way my death sentence would be legitimate. The police caught me and I was sent to death row without a trial because, obviously, I did it. I woke up before my execution. Analyze that, Dr. Phil! I read somewhere that you can never die in your dreams. That if you do die, you will die in real life. Interesting.

Medicine time! Oh Boy!

Things I Have Thought About....

What happens when you down valium with Red Bull?

Would you go to an eye doctor that wears glasses?

Would you eat at a restaurant that had a skinny cook?

In other news, there appears to be a grassroots campaign to nominate me, Lowell Cooper, for President of these here United States. Here's a news broadcast:


I do want to let everyone know, if nominated, I will not run. If elected, I will not serve. However, I bet it would be a great opening line. "Hey there. My name's Lowell. I'm President. Of the United States. Want to go back to my place and I'll chase you around the Oval Office? Then we can 'do it' on the Presidential Seal."
Maybe I will take the office if elected. Who knows? It could happen.

I'm going on a golf vacation for the next 4 days so don't expect any ramblings from me until I get back. I'm sure I'll have some stories from the weekend. But they may be somewhat homosexual in nature. I'll try to clean them up for the kiddies.

Also, I litter.

Right now I need to go take my 80-proof medication.

Some Thoughts About Death

I've been thinking about death recently. Mainly because I'm coming closer to it with the passing of each and every day.

Have you noticed that more and more photos are accompanying death notice in the newspapers? Some of these pictures are obviously not of the current variety. "Georgia Baxter passed away last Sunday after a long battle with an illness. She was 97." And the associated picture is of someone who is 30-something. I think there should be a law that, if you want to post a picture, it has to be taken after the person died. "Phil McKracken passed away last night. He was mauled by bears." You probably wouldn't see many pictures after that law is passed.

If there is an after-life, what will you look like when you get there? Will you look the same as the day you died? Or will you look like the age when you thought you were the hottest looking thing on the planet? What if it was the latter? And then you meet someone. And you start spooning and everything. And then you find out it's your mom (or your dad if you're a chick). But then, wouldn't your mom or dad know what you looked like when you were at your hottest? Damn, I don't want to think about this anymore. My head hurts.

I need a drink.

Sunday, July 13th

Today is July 13th, the day before Bastille Day (July 14th).

"Hey Lowell," you ask "What exactly is Bastille Day?"

Well, have a seat and let ol' Uncle Lowell tell you a story...

On May 5th 1789, Louis XVI convened the Estates-General to hear their grievances. The deputies of the Third Estate representing the common people (the two others were clergy and nobility) decided to break away and form a National Assembly. On June 20th the deputies of the Third Estate took the Tennis Court Oath, swearing not to separate until a constitution had been established. They were gradually joined by delegates of the other estates; Louis started to recognize their validity on June 27th. The assembly re-named itself the National Constituent Assembly on July 9th, and began to function as a legislature and to draft a constitution.

In the wake of the July 11th dismissal of the royal finance minister Jacques Necker, the people of Paris, fearful that they and their representatives would be attacked by the royal military, and seeking to gain arms for the general populace, stormed the Bastille, a prison which had often held people jailed on the basis of lettre de cachet, arbitrary royal indictments that could not be appealed. Besides holding a large cache of arms, the Bastille had been known for holding political prisoners whose writings had displeased the royal government, and was thus a symbol of the absolutism of the monarchy. As it happened, at the time of the siege in July 1789 there were only seven inmates, none of great political significance.

When the crowd (legend says it was organised by descendants of Knights Templar)— eventually reinforced by mutinous gardes françaises — proved a fair match for the fort's defenders, the commander of the Bastille, Governor de Launay capitulated and opened the gates to avoid a mutual massacre. However, possibly because of a misunderstanding, fighting resumed. Ninety-eight attackers and just one defender died in the actual fighting, but in the aftermath, De Launay and seven other defenders were killed, as was the 'prévôt es marchands' (roughly, mayor) Jacques de Flesselles.

The storming of the Bastille was more important as a rallying point and symbolic act of rebellion than a practical act of defiance.

Shortly after the storming of the Bastille, on August 4th feudalism was abolished and on August 26th, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen was proclaimed.

Also. on July 14th 1958, a revolution in Iraq overthrew the monarchy creating National Day.

July 14th is also the birthday of Gerald R. Ford, Harry Dean Stanton, Vincent Pastore (Big Pussy on the Sopranos), and British actor Terry-Thomas (whose picture is at the top of this post) who died in 1990.

I had an unusual dream last night. I dreamt I was watching TV when a political commercial came on. It was just a picture of a high school student against a blue/white background. He said "Hi. I'm running for Senior Class President. I have a grade point average of 4." Then the camera pans back, widens it's view and darkens the student. From the right side I come into view. I say, "Hi. I'm running for Senior Class President. I have a grade point average of 1. I can only add when I sit in the back of the Mighty Tonka". At which point I hold up a yellow toy dump truck. I woke up laughing. And had blood coming out of my nose.

I hope a great week is had by all.

You May Have Wondered Where I've Been...

I've been lying low since the following happened, just to be on the safe side.

Yes, just like Barbara Rose-Collins (picture on right - in tiara and mu-mu), I was visited by the Feds early one morning recently. Luckily, I put on a robe before answering the door as I had been sleeping in the nude. They showed up without warning and left after only about 15 minutes. They told me that they have tapes of several men discussing that I was angry with them about the fact that I had not yet been bribed about the Synagro sludge deal. One of the men said that there was no problem, that I had been taken care of. Obviously, this was done to frame me. I told the Feds that I received no money whatsoever to influence my vote, of which I have none. I am not a resident of the fine City of Detroit, so I cannot even run for city counsel. However, I work in the city so I do pay non-resident city taxes. And I can't vote or run for City government positions. That really sucks. Isn't that what we went to war with England about back in the mid 1770's? Taxation without representation? Maybe I should declare war with Detroit. I could probably win. The citizens of Detroit don't seem to care who's in charge anyway.

Anyway, I am not a target. The Feds told me so. I'm letting you know about this before the newpapers get ahold of it. That way it looks like I'm not guilty. I have nothing to hide. If the Feds come back, I'll freely talk to them without benefit of a lawyer. I'm that confident that they won't find anything out.

I'm really drunk right now.

The Day After Woosiepalooza

Woosiepalooza was a rounding success. There was croquet. There was basketball. There was a pool. There was a water balloon fight. There were hot dogs and hamburgers. There was fireworks.

And there was badmitton.

Not your ordinary badmitton, mind you. This game was set up so anyone could play, regardless of your age, health or state of inebriation. There are 6 players on each side. Normally having 6 people with rackets aiming at a shuttlecock flying thru the air is a prescription for injury. However, there was a caveat that made 6 on a side possible. And that caveat would be lawnchairs. Yes, lawnchairs. Everyone must sit in a lawnchair and their butt cannot leave the chair while the shuttlecock is in play. The lawnchairs are positioned 3 in the front and 3 in the back (if you want a lot of action, make sure you sit in the middle chair of either row). Now this may not sound like a lot of fun, but you can play with a racket in one hand and a drink in the other and not have to worry about spillage. We also took a few liberties with the rules. Normally, the game is played with only 1 or 2 people on each side. Our rules allowed 12 people to play at once. We allowed 3 hits per side to get the shuttlecock over the net instead of just one hit. I'd say 95% of the time it was hit over with just one hit. Also, you could only get a point if you served. And we only played to 15 instead of 21.

I left Woosiepalooza at 10:30, near the end of the fireworks. I wanted to get home before the local fireworks near my house concluded. There is a lot of construction in the area and most of the side streets have barracades to prevent access to the main road (where the construction is located). That was going to make leaving the fireworks a massive traffic problem. And I would be the one person going in while everyone else was coming out, so I wanted to get home before that happened. I beat the end of the fireworks by about 5 minutes. Both of my cats were off hiding because of all the boom-boom.

I did not have an alcoholic drink at all yesterday. That may not be the case today.

Vacation Day 5

Happy 4th of July all!

I'll be going to Woosiepalooza shortly. I don't have much to say right now. Depending on what time I get home, I may issue an update later tonight.

Here are four words that will make you change the radio station - "Up next: Yoko Ono."

Cooper did want breakfast at 6 AM this morning. So I fed both him and Jazz and then went back to sleep for 2 hours.

Does anyone else find the following statement disturbing?
"Just throw him on top of the pile of corpses."

Possible update later.

The rest of my day will probably be spent drinking.

Vacation Day 4

Today I woke up around 7 AM because my cats wanted me too. I fed them and went back to sleep for another 90 minutes.

I didn't do much during the day except download porn. Most web sites put new material out on Thursdays to beat the weekend rush.

Later in the day I went to The Men's Warehouse to pick up my new pair of pants. When I walked in the door I was amazed at the number of customers. I never thought the day before July 4th was such a big suit-buying day. I had to wait about 15 minutes before anyone was available to help me. I gave the guy my sales slip and he returned with my pants. He asked if I would like to try them on and I said yes I would. I went into the changing room and put on the pants. They fit pretty well but seemed a little long. I could tell that the pants were long because I was stepping on them with my heel. I left the room to see myself in the mirror. The guy that brought me my pants had gone off and was helping another customer. After about 5 minutes he came back. I told him that my heel was stepping on the pant and that I would like to try a pair of dress shoes to see if that would change anything (I had worn sneakers today). He asked what size shoe I wore. I wanted to tell him 11, but I had to settle for 8 and 1/2. I don't think he gave the right size shoe because I could only fit about half my foot in it. He yelled to someone in the back "I need a pair of 9's!" and left to help another customer. I said outloud, "What is going on here?" But of course, nobody was around to hear me. I waited another few minutes until someone came from the back and asked who needed the 9's. I raised my hand and she handed me the shoes and went back from wherever she came from. I put the shoes on and checked myself out in the mirror again. The pants were definitely too long. Again, several minutes passed before anyone came by to help me out. He measured the pants. I went back to the changing room to change clothes, fully expecting to emerge from the room and find no one waiting for me. I was pleasantly wrong this time. He took the pants from me and said they could alter them right away, but it would take 20-30 minutes because they were so busy. I had several other errands to run and told him I would have to come back. He gave a customer pick-up slip and I went on to my other errands. I finished up my errands and called The Men's Warehouse after I returned home. I asked them if they were busy and I was told they were very busy. I thanked him and hung up. I guess I'll have to make a special trip on Saturday to pick up the pants.

I just re-read what I wrote. I am an extremely boring person. If they ever make boring an Olympic sport, I'm guaranteed a gold.

The rest of my day was not spent drinking. Thursdays are amphetamines day. I'm doped up.

Vacation Day 3

This is a picture of my deck.

I had a guy came over to replace some rotted wood. Basically, the steps. which were a half-moon shape and ran the length of the deck opening, and one of the floor slats were rotting away. He said he would be at my house at 7:30 AM. He didn't show up until 9:30. Now, 7:30 AM has to be pretty close to the first appointment of the day. I was thinking to myself, "How does one because 2 hours late for the first appointment of the day?" And he never even called me to explain why he was late. Turns out he had a 6:00 appointment and then had to go to the lumber yard to pick up the boards for my deck. However, the lumber yard was so backed up he decided to come over to my place and remove the rotted wood and then go back to the lumber yard to pick up the boards. Turns out it was a good thing he did that because he would've picked up the wrong size board for the replacement slat. He would have brought a 1/8 inch thinner board. He finished the whole thing by 5 PM and he was the only one here. There is a slight gap on the left side where the steps meet the concrete, but the runners are flush against the cement, so I'm not sweating that. He does have to come back though, because he didn't get to the shrub pruning I asked him to do 2 of my shrubs in the front yard. He said he had to come back to Clawson tomorrow for another job and if he could fit it in he would stop by. If not, he'll get to it early next week. He charged me about $300 to demolish the old steps and haul the wood away and about $800 to put in the new steps and floor slat. Does that sound like a decent price? I have nothing to compare it with. When he first presented the costs to me, the $300 was written down as "demo/haul". I thought that meant that he was going to build the steps, show them to me and if I didn't like it, he would charge me $300 and take them away and I wouldn't have to pay the other $800. He had to explain that "demo" meant "demolition" and "haul" was to haul the rotted wood away. I felt kinda stupider than normal at that point.

The rest of my day has been spent drinking.

The Lost Cosby Kid and Vacation Day 2

Left to right: Mushmouth, Russell, Rudy, Fat Albert, Bucky, Bill, Dumb Donald and Weird Harold.
Anyone missing?


Do you remember this:

"Hey, Hey, Hey, it’s Fat Albert!
And I’m gonna sing a song for you
And Bill’s gonna show you a thing or two
You’ll have some fun now with me and all the gang.
Learning from each other, and while we do our thing…

Na Na Na, gonna have a good time."

Yes it's the theme song to Fat Albert & The Cosby Kids. A few weeks back, some friends and I were reminiscing about Fat Albert. Did you know there was a lost Cosby Kid? He was only in the promotional cartoon made before the show went on the air. His name was Sackmouth. He was born with 2 testicles in his mouth. Fat Albert would say, "Hey, Hey, Hey. What's up, Sackmouth?" And Sackmouth would always say, "I can't talk. I've got 2 balls in my mouth" at which point, the testicles would pop out of his mouth and dangle against his chin. Sackmouth would then push the balls back into his mouth because it was just gross to see 2 balls dangling on a guy's chin. I believe the voice of Sackmouth was provided by Morgan Freeman, but I could be wrong. Anyway, the advertisers didn't think Sackmouth would be a good selling point for their products, so he was written out of all the episodes that actually aired. I'm thinking that Sackmouth got punched in the jaw and became Mushmouth, but I could be wrong there too.

I picked up my dry cleaning today. It got me to thinking about what martinizing is again. I started thinking that it maybe some guy named Martin in the back of the shop jacking off on suits going, "Yeah, there's your 'Martinizing', baby. And there. And there. And there, too. Yeah." Again, your suit comes out all stiff and shiny. Like metal. I guess 'simonizing' could be construed in the same way.

Yesterday, I fucked a hamster. By accident.

Friday is Woosiepaloosa 2008. Every July 4th one of my friends, we'll call him "Glenn", has a barbecue get together at his house. It's a lot of fun, what with the drunken croquet, drunken bocce, drunken basketball and drunken fireworks ("More Boom-Boom!"). Did I mention there'd be alcohol involved? Every year I make a CD of older songs from the 60's, 70's and 80's for "Glenn". Unfortunately, I don't keep a record of what songs I burned onto CDs for him over the years, so I'm probably going to give him all duplicate songs one of these years.

The rest of my day has been spent drinking.

Advice From Your Ol' Uncle Lowell...

Don't masterbate with 60-grit sandpaper.

Just don't.