Shit, the PRESS is here!

Journalism wasn't the first choice. In fact writing was a hobby back then. You did it because there was something magic about sitting down in front of a page and filling it up with crap. Then re-visions.

The original goal was to be a pharmacist. A drug specialist. Which sort of threw me into a mindfuck in high school. A person that specializes in, and has vast knowledge of ALL the drugs out there. Seems like a pretty dangerous profession. What do you mean he just quit Walgreen's and joined some Cuban gun-running enterprise? Ahh---they had insurance.

Pharmacy- what a great job. Sure you bring home the bacon. That's for sure. But it just seems like a spineless job. I'd get curious. What does this one do. Ahh the red one is the good one. So after a stint at UIC and studying pharmacy - the idea of becoming a pharmacist ran out of steam. Who are these people. Also - I think it was the school too. UIC SUCKS is self-explanatory.

Journalism. Why journalism? I guess I've never saw it that way, but I was always surrounded by the paper. Or some kind of a paper. In high school I wrote movie reviews. I was one of those asshole kids that would take the newspaper workshop - to produce the school paper. Funny shit.

College - same thing. That was Ranting and Raving time. Literally - it was the name of the column. That was a blast. Being around all this writing, kind of sends the message "Why the fuck do you want to be a pharmacist?" The only time a pharmacist gets his due credit is when he shoves you in the NyQuil direction when you get sick. Thank you, Now I'll surly feel better.

And since the fair and balanced thing is supposed to mend with my genetic makeup, being a pharmacist must have some of its moments. You're supposed to serve the customer. I'm sure during a regular work day you get to voice your professional opinion on many different topics.

Like - yeah yeah Ms. Grady, Preperation H in isle 5.

George - that is a monster fiber shake.

May I help you pick the best cold sore remedy?

These condoms are great. They transmit body heat. Oh that's fine sir, here are the Magnums then. You can wrap them around a six inch thick water main, and still have room left over. Or a lead pipe.

The helpful pharmacist.

I've always considered myself a writer. The other trades I looked at, had something to do with writing. The Writers and Editors. Becoming an author or a novelist is always in the back of the mind, but it seems like its a gamble. In journalism, something is always happening. The feeding frenzy is on. Get the news. Get the story. Rinse and repeat.

A pack of vultures.

OH SHIT! The PRESS IS HERE. It seems like something out of a comic book. Don't talk so loud, Vinnie, or THE PRESS will hear. AND WHEN THEY HEAR THEN THEY COME NEAR! You don't want the press here, now do you Vinnie?

The chase for the story will hopefully plant a seed of true and genuine moxie within the self. Who likes artificial moxie? It's not called artificial moxie at that point, though. It's called Jim Beam and it comes in a clear bottle asshole. It's called a beverage.

And since this is all about trying a variety of things that life has to offer, I am looking forward to the pressure and deadlines. Nothing more funny than pressure.

"Get that sound back on!"

"I'm a reporter."

"Get that sound back on NOW OR YOUR FUCKING FIRED!!!"

"Sorry sir, the volume was down."

Oh yes - the pressure. When people snap from too much pressure, that's when they should have cameras in people's faces. I want to see a guy turn grey live on TV. Here I am making fun of pressure, and it will be the slap in the face in the future.

Where is he?

Who?

The new guy?

He hyperventilated and fainted. He's in the bathroom getting his shit together; getting ready for another turn I hope. He's got the graveyard shift tonight.

Who Watches the Watchmen?

When it came to journalists that you can trust, the “Voices of God” if you will, I really didn’t have many. I always stuck with Peter Jennings in the later years, but I mostly enjoyed the works of comedians and satirists, who over the years formulated their own opinions about politics, life, and its quirkiness. “What they’ve got bigger dicks – BOMB THEM!”- George Carlin

Of course the blog is not dubbed Gonzo Loop without a reason. The Good Doctor will always ring in my heart as THE journalist. Very unconventional he was. Yet – Gonzo is what I think makes a mediocre story, into a story that has substance. Yes – this is wrong in the more conservative journalism circles. But shit – they didn’t call him an outlaw journalist for a reason. But this blog has seen its share of HST references, so I will refrain, despite the urge.

George Carlin always stuck in my mind. He’s been perfecting his craft for over forty years; so he had material that reached people. His observations, his love of words, and the intricacies of the English language, is probably what drew me to him. Plus the Seven Dirty Words. “And remember this is Mr. Conductor talking; I know what I’m talking about!”

I liked his bit about bullshit. That some people say that bullshit only comes from certain places. No, no, bullshit is rampant. It’s everywhere. The entire country is run by people who are full of shit. And since this was a Carlin bit, he ripped into the media. The media is the bullshit junction. It sifts all the bullshit from the surrounding areas.

Most of Carlin’s stuff was pure gold.

In general I am interested in people who write their own material, and if need be, perform it the way it should be. Denis Leary's No Cure for Cancer is a prime example of this. Who can forget the Asshole song?

"You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, hot pink with whaleskin hub caps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah! And I'm gonna drive around in that baby at 115mph getting one mile per gallon, sucking down quarter pounder cheese burgers from McDonald's in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers and when I'm done sucking down those grease ball burgers, I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag and then I'm gonna toss the styrofoam container right out the side and there ain't a God damned thing anybody can do about it. YOu know why? Because we got the bombs, that's why."

“Well marijuana leads to other drugs. No it doesn’t. It leads to fucking carpentry, folks. Wow this box would make an excellent bong. This guy’s head would make an excellent bong…that’s why I stopped doing drugs. Not because I didn’t like them, but because I didn’t want to build anything.”

Denis came off as a macho guy. His whole bit was about men who drank, smoked, and ate raw red fucking meat. “What do you think I want? I want a bowl of raw red fucking meat. Forget About THAT! Bring me a live cow to the table; I’ll carve off what I want and ride the rest home!”

With that, came many other comedians. All the greats. Pryor, Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Bill Hicks, Sam Kinison, and the other hordes of comedians I dig. But this is about journalism and opinion makers.

The only guy now, which gets my attention, is Jon Stewart. The Daily Show, a fake entertainment show, has all the potential of a news cast, yet they don’t take themselves seriously. That’s why they skewer sacred cows.

This is America. If the Daily Show formula works, and obviously it does, then in the future we will see a lot more programs like that. Stewart, a smart-ass in his own right, takes risks; calls them like he sees them. And I’m glad that he doesn’t see the media in a favorable light. Maybe there is a lesson to be learned for the future generation of journalists. In other words:

Why IS this SHIT News? What about real NEWS?

Holy Father Space Ghost

The sad part is that we all knew it would happen sooner or later. We’ve all seen those South Park episodes, where the Pope is just sitting lifeless, letting out a groan once in a while, gurgling something incoherent; sitting there with that hump on his back. Hey I don’t blame you; it was funny at the time. Towards the end of his life it was just a soul leading a body.

For a while we forgot about the Pope. Sure – he was still the target for jokes. But we forgot his mission. He generally wanted the common good of the people. That’s who he was. Here's the Vatican website. The Vatican has a website?

It is difficult to write about this man, knowing that I am a "Pole" too. Or Pollack if you want to be a dick about it. Cut to dramatic Fox News music. Get some Polish lady, talking about “Nasz Papierz.” “Our Pope,” in the translation. Get some Red and White flag waving, plastic bag carrying, janitor lady on the news and she'll say that the pope was the greatrest thing since sliced bread.

That week was crazy. The media was on a feeding frenzy. And you couldn't get balanced news. I waited for the Polish paper to read the news; and of course the paper is overflowing with tributes to the pope. No balance anywhere. And as George Carlin used to say, "What is so great about sliced bread? If you have a knife, and a loaf of bread - slice the FUCKING THING!"

The more ironic story is that I grew up in Poland, in Krakow, on the same street where Karol Wojtyla used to be a priest. Back in the old school. I’m talking about lollipops and sandals, and those short soccer pants. The ones you see in those old Celtics tapes with Larry Bird.

And I used to be an altar boy for hell’s sake.

I did it because you got a laminated green priest card that let you in for the free club house; that was a blast, traveling in a group of three, learning the motions of being an altar boy. Creepy? Indeed it was.There was no monopoly; we had RPG’s. Pollack rpg’s to be sure, but hell, nothing builds character more than pretending being important. A wolf hound you say? Was it a goblin? Dude, I have an orgre slaying knife, one that kills ogres.

I have never seen Polish people unify to such an extent, in the memory of his death. Every other car has a flag on it. The black SUV’s full of Polish flags now, all ready to throw down. As if someone was threatening the pope. There they are – all representing their colors, the red’s and the whites, The Polish flag, talking some Polish nonsense, heated due to the fact that that it was in Polish.

“Co Kurwa?"

“What?”

“Co Kurwa?”

“Dude I don’t speak Polish.”

“Co kurwa?” It seems like a recurring theme with you.

Of course amidst the Polish flags, there is some joker who has a Cubs flag on his car. I guess in the end we are all fans to an extent. I'm a fan of the Pope?

The grief did hit the family waves. The hell it did. Polish families, tend to have correspondence with the Old Country via telephone and letters.
So we asked for it. Grandma sent a book: in Polish – that Memory and Identiy book written by the Pope; his most recent foray into the unknown. A big seller.

Did he leave a legacy?

Now imagine if Michael Jordan kicked the can? Would there be a World following? Then again – MJ was not the pope. Obviously I’m biased because he was a Polish Back in Poland none of use heard negative things about the Pope. We listened to what he said. Even if we didn’t agree with it. The Pope was viewed differently by the Polish people, versus, the rest of the world. I’ve always remembered hearing his speeches in Polish, and how touched people were when he came to visit. Relligion is a big deal in Poland. If you missed church, people were like, what you can't even get up in the morning for the Lord? Kurwa. America - Sunday is the day where you don't have to get up if you don't want to.

He did have controversial stances. There was the no sex before marriage thing. Of course that didn’t fly in America; lets face it we love sex. You mean I have to marry this guy in order to sleep with him? Well fuck that. Why buy the cow when you could have the milk for free, right? Yeah – American’s weren’t fond of the idea.

The pope didn’t like homosexuals. Personally I think he tried to make decisions based on the faith he was representing. Religion is a sticky issue in America. It’s more of I practice what I want, in the privacy of my own home. It’s kind of difficult for the Catholic Church to approve homosexuality. Maybe the idea of sweaty man-on-man action, or hell, just the image, doesn’t bode well with the whole Holy Spirit, church music, the Body of Christ, and that jive.

Although on that note, if anyone ever wants to make a political statement about homosexuality in relation to the church, they should probably think about making an all lesbian and gays XXX rated porno that is set in a church. With the altar, the crucifix, and the rosary, set to some sensual music. That would raise a few eyebrows. And use condoms – to really hammer the idea home that it can’t be that bad if it is set in a church. The Sunday Fuckathon. Here’s your host – Richard Simmons. The Buttfucking Clergymen! The Altar Boys. Make it like American Gladiators.

Anyway – back to the Pope.

Since this little trifle is about the Pope John Paul II, then all we can do is remember the man, not his ideologies, and understand that he really didn’t want bad things for humanity. A crusader of peace to some, pain in the ass to others, still an amazing man. Obligation tells me to praise the Pope since I am Polish. I just think the world responded to a man that was truly good. Not in a complicated way. Just good. Pure. Born in 1920 pure.

NO condoms, no premarital sex? Fuck that. Where would the fun be then?

And here are sports….