Good Clean Fun Is Annoying 9:02 AM

Lately I have wondered at the groups of people in matching t-shirts, some in costumes, some with face paint, running around Downtown Austin every weekend as I am getting myself to work.  I have seen them in groups of two or more, sprinting across intersections, assailing local businesses and walking in a circle; seemingly dazed, with heads bent towards a sheet of paper or a smart phone.  I quickly realized that it was a large scale scavenger hunt of some kind, but did not know exactly what it was until recently.

I was unfortunate enough to have a close-up look at so many of these matching t-shirts the other day that I was able to glean some information from one of them.  It took me a while to visually sort through the hundreds of sponsor logos and discern exactly what was going on but I finally saw the words "Downtown Dash" positioned just between the MGD Light (only 64 calories!), Miller Lite and Bacardi logos.  Upon further investigation I found out that this was an activity produced by the Austin Sports and Social Club (Austin SCC), the same group that has organized the ever popular kickball league here in Central Texas.

Good Clean Fun!

 I have many friends that participate in kickball leagues across the nation for fun, for sport, for meeting people and for casual sex.  Cool.  I myself have gotten out there and acted as a substitute on a well established kickball team (I was lousy on the field, but I feel like I really contributed at the after party).  What I am talking about here is really more of an issue with the "Downtown Dash" scavenger hunt than kickball.  The downtown dash is a scavenger hunt where teams decipher riddles and collect photographs or actual objects from around town and from local businesses.  I think it's awesome to have an outlet for young 20-30 somethings to get together, socialize, be active and interact with peers.  It's a great way to meet people if you happen to be new in town or just plain shy and besides that, it gets us away from our computers and social networking sites to go out and exercise while interacting with real human beings live and in person.  Seriously.

Girls do it because it's a fun activity to do with their friends.  Dudes do it because of these girls.

However, while city wide scavenger hunts might give you the opportunity to meet people, connect with existing friends, discover a new city and exercise, what it doesn't do is give you a license to be a fucking asshole.  Think for a moment before you are insanely rude to me while I'm at work.  Understand that I might not be there to help you solve the riddle for the next clue in your professionally organized social event.  Don't be a bitch because you don't understand that what you are doing has nothing to do with me or my employer.  Try to recognize the fact that you are in a place of business.  I know that you might only be aware of the 8 other people in your group "googling" the answer to a clue on their iphones.  Your group is only one of hundreds that have been blissfully running around town, cutting people off and making it a nightmare for people that are here working or here to actually shop.  So,  in the brief moment it takes for you to look up from your phone and confront me with your ignorance, I hope the look on my face helps you realize that there are other things going on that don't involve you.  I will be glad to help you, but I don't really give a shit if you don't finish in time to meet everybody at some lame sports bar for the after party.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't know where you keep whatever it is we think we're looking for?!"

College kids are great, they really are.  But regressing towards our favorite childhood pastimes as an excuse to be a douchebag must also come with an equal progression towards becoming aware that the universe does not revolve around you.

To be honest, I'm just jealous that I'm not a college kid anymore. I would probably do it too if I didn't know that non-traditional students are a million times more annoying and uncomfortable at organized collegiate social events than they are in the classroom.  The only scavenger hunt I would be truly excited to participate in would be if Elsa Maxwell herself came back from the grave and threw a party and that's not gonna happen anytime soon.  So, I have decided to have the first annual Sleeping Horse Pills Downtown Dash!  A preview of the items on the SHP scavenger hunt checklist can be viewed below.  If you're not up for it, here is a link to the Austin SSC Downtown Dash site.  See you downtown!!

SLEEPING HORSE PILLS DOWNTOWN DASH SCAVENGER HUNT CHECKLIST:

    1.  A scab picked off the arm of the first junkie you see nodding off in the park.


    2.  Two VHS tapes from Dreamers with the words "Amateur", "Creampie", "Amazing"& 
         "Diaper" in the title.                  


    3.  A human hair either shorter than 3" or longer than 6" found inside a menu item from any 
         food trailer or taco stand.


   4.  A receipt from 6 different bars showing total paid for one shot per each team member of 
        your team.


   5.  A cardboard sign with the signature of the person who was standing at a busy intersection 
        holding it.  The sign cannot include the phrase "Why Lie, I Need Beer" or the words 
        "Ninjas", "Smile" or "Jesus".
       

Palehorse Does SXSW 11:26 PM

Sleeping Horse Pills is pleased to announce the return of the Palehorse!  A contributor since the very first paper issue of SHP, Palehorse has shared everything from tips for online gambling to recipes for bachelors on a budget.  The Palehorse climbs back in the saddle with a recap of his experiences during SXSW 2011.  We sincerely hope that it is the straw that breaks the camel's back of your tolerance for "all things SXSW" this year.  We would have gotten it to you sooner but the Palehorse, just this moment, recovered from his hangover.

PALEHORSESOUTHBY2011  by The Palehorse

Oh, Dear SHP Readers.... how I've missed you! Since my last contribution, a lot has changed in my life. I started going to a new yoga class, added French and Italian to my List Of Foreign Languages I'll Never Take The Time To Learn and finally, gave up on flossing.
A month or so ago, Rocky found me on Gchat to see if I'd toss some scribbles his way for SHP 2.0. I sent him a draft about the time, after hitting up Mugshots for last call, I awoke a few days later to find out I had been bought by a wealthy businessman to be his son's "live-in friend" for a week. Rocky is apparently a fan of Richard Pryor. He started typing in ALLCAPS, and the conversation was over. That next morning I received a fax that simply read: SXSW RECAP! (he also added a few obscene drawings).

My favorite part of SouthBy is the schedule. The 70 page list of free events from Wed-Sun. Breaking that down -by day, -by priority, -by trash and of course, -by free booze. I seriously lose interest in world news, sports scores.... My daily focus for 5 days is the time and location of an artist I wouldn't mind checking out. At the same time, I love to stray off the path I've created and meet up with a group for some cheap drinks at Sidebar or catch a random band here and there. I just love having OPTIONS! That's how it's been the last few years, running around from Noon-2am everyday. I seriously doubt I'll be able to continue that pace in the years to come.

This year's Southby may be one of my favorites. Everything about it: the weather, the friends, the new venues and no severe damages like lost ID/phone, or arrest! Just a couple bruises and a few scrapes...

Palehorse + Free SXSW Beer = Awesome

Saw some old faves (Menomena, Ted Leo, J Mascis, Cave Singers) who, of course, were spectacular. Odd Future at MessWithTexas was like nothing I had ever seen, and I don't think I ever will again. Got a chance to see Thee Oh Sees in two very different settings, and their energy for both was to the MAX. Definitely a band you have to see live rather than form an opinion based on recordings.

There were countless times this year that were so enjoyable and amazing, but these 3 for me were extremely surprising and magical:


MELLOWHYPE and BASSDRUMOFDEATH: DeVille, Wed. afternoon.



I had already been walking around for a couple hours, hopping into various venues to find freebies. After meeting up with SuperSonic James at RedEyedFly and downing all the free Trumer Pils we could, we decided to go see what exactly a MellowHype was.

I knew very little at the time:

1. It had something to do with OddFuture.
2. It was their first SXSW performance.

It turned out to be the "performance to beat" for the rest of the week. Hodgy Beats and Left Brain were on fire and unlike previous years, DeVille was not packed at all. Of course, when the entire Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All crew jumped on stage, people started to Lose.  Their.  Shit! I think BASSDRUMOFDEATH knew they would have to come out and just kill it for the crowd energy to stay on the same level and they did not disappoint at all. It was a 1-2 punch of hiphop/garagerock that left us in awe and set the bar for the rest of the week.

GAYNGS: Red 7, Secret Guest Slot. Wednesday night.



What. A. Wednesday! After Club DeVille and an Eastside Bar Tour, I knew I had to make my way to Red 7 for the Jagjaguwar Showcase, since it would be the only chance for me to catch the Cave Singers during this SouthBy. They were honestly the only reason I was going to the Showcase, and to me, worth the $20 I was assuming would be the door price along with waiting in line for 30 minutes at the very least. As I walked up to the club, a line 20 deep had already formed, everyone wearing wristbands or dangling badges. Just to make sure I wasn't wasting my time, I went and asked the door girls if they were even accepting cash for entrance into the showcase. "Oh, the line for cash starts here" she said, and pointed two feet to her left, reaching out her hand for my money.
SuperSonic James was able to get in just as easily and as we were discussing how we had just waltzed in for $15 while $300 wristbanders were STILL waiting in line, a crowd started to form onstage. After two notes of the guitar soundcheck my jaw hit the floor. I had completely forgot there was a Suprise Guest and had already chalked Gayngs up as a band I wouldn't get a chance to see this week. They played a relatively short set, but you could tell just how much fun they were all having that night. I had their album in my Top 5 of last year, and it's an album you MUST listen to from start to finish to truly enjoy. That usually makes it more difficult to transition to a live performance, but Gayngs has figured out what needs to be added and what parts are better suited just for the record.

WYEOAK:  Swan Dive, Brooklyn Vegan Day Party. Friday afternoon.



Friday was the start of my four-day hangover.

This didn't stop me from drinking, though I probably should have passed on the free tequila mixes that were constantly flowing. But hey, free is free. I feel like I walked about 20 miles on Friday alone. The original plan was to meet up with Rocky at Scoot Inn for Odd Future and Pentagram so I slurped down my third disgusting margarita and trekked to the Eastside. Walking up to Scoot, the line literally wrapped around the entire venue and into the streets. A volunteer kept shouting, "We're at capacity, you're not getting in!" but no one was moving, listening. I informed Rocky of the bad news and decided to head back to the Brooklyn Vegan party. After grabbing some free vegan treats outside, I decided to check out who was playing inside. The above video is the song I walked into (if you look closely you can see me). Not knowing anything at all about Wye Oak, they completely blew me away. First, the sound quality at Swan Dive was spot on. Every band I saw there benefited from it greatly. And of course, if you're a girl that shreds on a guitar, you've got my attention. Maybe it was the fact that I had just previously struck out on a show I really wanted to see, but Wye Oak's set gave me my second wind, and prolonged that shitty hangover feeling until Saturday.

Medium Rotation: Shock of the New 1:26 PM

Here are a couple new records I got recently.  Medium Rotation:  Shock of the New will feature records that aren't necessarily new, but they will be recently acquired and so therefore new to me.  You can hit the players to listen to the tracks.  The recording is shitty because it's just me holding a mic up to my shitty speakers.  I like that though.  It reminds me of when I would sit in front of my boom box with my finger on the pause button so I could try and record a new song off the radio onto a cassette.


OFF!  Compared to What / Rotten Apple 7"  Tour Version 

OFF! went into the studio in February to record a couple tracks for this new 7" on Southern Lord.  They wanted to get it done quick so they would have something for the tour and it shows because it's got the same live and urgent sound that exemplifies everything this furiously focused punk outfit has done so far.  This is the limited Tour Version of the record which features a sweet Vans print by Aaron Edge Design and heavy ass blue vinyl.  If you missed out you probably won't be able to get one unless you see them on their current tour.  The official Southern Lord release is scheduled for Record Store Day in April and I think they are releasing a couple of cool versions then as well.

The original lyrics to Compared To What by Gene McDaniels sound as if they were written just so Keith Morris could yell/snarl/scream the fuck out of them.  The song was made popular by Roberta Flack and OFF! has written completely original music for this version.  The B-side is Rotten Apple and although it never seems like OFF! is trying to re-live or re-create the glory days of punk, this track confirms that they are still pissed off(!). 




Destroyer / Black Mountain Quiet Weather Singles Series

I recently got to see Destroyer perform during their tour in support of their new album Kaputt.  The sound is completely different than anything they have ever done before and Daniel Bejar has put down the guitar, preferring to concentrate on delivering his intricate manipulation of the English language while taking countless sips of any alcohol within reach.  The new album is incredible and it's awesome seeing them pull it off live.

I got lucky and found this 7" split at the merch table.  There were only 500 copies pressed in 2004 by Spirit of Orr Records.  It's on white vinyl and Black Mountain's Bicycle Man is the B-side to the Destroyer track Jackie, Dressed in Cobras.

The Destroyer track is basically just Daniel Bejar recording a demo of Jackie, Dressed in Cobras at home.  It sounds awesome because it's a simple little jam with Bejar recording a few vocal tracks of his insanely cool lyrics over the top.  It is from (before this new album) the era of Destroyer that I have always enjoyed most, 2004's Your Blues spanning back through Streethawk: A Seduction and Thief.  The New Pornographer's released their version of the song on 2005's Twin Cinemas.  It's nowhere near as good as this demo.  I've never been a New Pornographers fan and I have always wondered why Bejar continues to give them what is always their best material.

I was unfamiliar with Black Mountain until listening to Bicycle Man on the B-side of this record.  It immediately reminded me of Dead Moon.  These Canadians have got a sound I like:  Take the barest minimum of chords and then play them as hard and as tough and as dirty as you can.

SXSHP 8:36 PM

The South by Southwest (SXSW) Film and Music festival is set to once again descend upon Austin.  In its 25th year, this annual springtime event has become the bloated, over the top display of excess and debauchery that one would expect from such a celebrated convention of independent films, talented young bands and most importantly, the by-product of their exploitation; HUGE piles of money.

Although the Film part of the festival is gaining momentum, the Music has always been the big draw with SXSW  boasting over 2,000 performers playing in more than 90 venues in Austin during four "official" days of the festival.  The "official" title is an important part of learning how to navigate this carnival.

SXSW has lost much of what made it so special in the beginning.  Although it has always been a music industry trade conference in the guise of a festival, it really was a way of showcasing exciting new talent and giving them exposure and an opportunity to play for people who could help make their dreams come true.  Who hasn't heard the legendary tales of bands being signed while sharing a steaming piss trough with a record executive at Emo's after a good set.  You could end up shaking hands with some record label asshole so fucking high on coke that everything sounds like heaven to him and end up on a world tour by July.  Now, it just seems like an excuse for music industry folks to come party and eat BBQ once a year.

Despite the beast that is SXSW, the last 5 years that I have attended in varying degrees, I have made some amazing memories....

-  Getting tattooed with the Destiny Friends crew.
-  Seeing Fucked Up play the Lamar Pedestrian Bridge at 2am and yelling "J!  Hey J!" while trying to get the attention of J. Mascis who was also in attendance.
-  Verne H. Coleman and I getting free wristbands for showing up too late to Yo La Tengo at the Parish.
-  Interviewing Georgia Hubley after a set at the French Legation.
-  Throwing Dice on the Mugshots pool table.
-  Pelican killing it at 9am with free beer.
-  Early incarnation of Fleshlights playing a set in a front yard next to the French Legation.

Fucked Up on Lamar Pedestrian Bridge 2am ©Esther Lin

So, despite having to deal with a ton of pretentious assholes, the usual hipster, scene-maker bullshit and getting gouged by every business in town right along with the tourists, SXSW can be a shitload of good times!

Sleeping Horse Pills Guide to Making Future Memories at SXSW:

-  Fuck your Badge!  90% of the people that have badges hanging around their necks are assholes that treat you like shit because you are a true fan getting in their way of enjoying a company sponsored circle jerk.  If they look down their nose at you, I suggest sticking a finger down your throat and puking Hot Dog King and free beer all over their sweet kicks.

-  Get there early for free beer and food.  Get your shit together man, hangovers are not allowed.

-  Don't do anything "official".  There are enough free parties and every band that matters will play these with as much if not more gusto as the badge or invite only shows.

-  Don't get a tattoo anywhere near 6th street.  You will be woefully overcharged.  Check out Triple Crown on the East Side.

-  Learn to play Craps or Cee-Lo.  Dice are super portable, you might get bored, gambling is fun and you might win back some of the money you spent at all the free shows.

-  Don't take anything from anybody passing out "free shit" on the street.  It's worthless crap and you will end up with an armload of trash advertising consumer goods from A-Z.

-  The blow and booze and pills and shitty Tex-Mex is gonna fuck with your insides.  If you get to a safe, "non-festival" toilet, take your time and take advantage.

-  If you can't get in somewhere, suck it up and move on.  You probably don't want to hang out with those assholes anyway.

-  Purchase the bulk of your illicit substances just before the craziness starts.  Meeting up with your guy if he's not already tapped out will be hard during the week.  Don't stock up too soon though because if you're like me, you'll taste it and then you'll be trying to meet up with your guy during the week.

If you have any memories or survival tips please share them in the comments.  Enjoy yourselves and I hope to see one or two of you going wild in the streets!

The Nam Diaries 9:07 PM

"Are you smoking that shit so's to escape from reality?  Me, I don't need this shit.  I am reality.  There's the way it ought to be, and there's the way it is."
                                                                                  - Sgt. Barnes

Karg survived the mountains of north Vietnam with the hospitality of the Hmong people and his teenage guide Ang.  Then he came down from the cliffs and plunged into the deep waters of Ha Long Bay.  Now, along with his companion Jimmy, the bartender from Wisconsin, Karg travels south along the coastline ever closer to Saigon.  But before he reaches Ho Chi Minh City, Karg finds himself stuck in Nha Trang.  Although he is no FNG when it comes to ignoring moderation with alcohol, Karg fights a losing battle with booze on the beaches of Nha Trang and The Sailors Club.  But the worm definitely turns for Karg and sometimes feeling good's good enough.  Hit the jump to continue reading.  Free your mind and the ass will follow.

Roadkill 2:47 PM

While talking to a friend and fan of Sleeping Horse Pills recently, we discovered a mutual interest in photographs of dead animals.  Odessa B. Parker is a photography enthusiast, without any pretense of creating art.  What follows is a small gallery of some pretty pictures she's taken of roadkill.  What I like about these images is that she has (for the most part) approached the subjects in a way that makes it appear as if she quietly crept up to these animals and photographed them as they slept peacefully.  They appear almost as taxidermy rather than gory roadkill.

It reminds me of when John Lurie took Jim Jarmusch fishing for the first episode of Fishing With John and Jarmusch says something about the morality of fishing.  Lurie, barely able to contain the smirk on  his face argues that "we wouldn't be able to see them otherwise".  It's a brilliant moment and you can see Jarmusch flail as he back peddles from his out of character, politically correct statement.

Miss Parker asked me to include some pictures from my own collection of roadkill shots and so I've tacked a few onto the end.  Be sure to check out her small bio on the Partners In Crime link located in the right hand column of the homepage.  Regardless of how you feel about dead animals, pictures or pictures of dead animals, try to enjoy these opportunities to study a few creatures that we may not be able to really see otherwise.

photo by Odessa B. Parker

photo by Odessa B. Parker

 

photo by Odessa B. Parker

photo by Odessa B. Parker

photo by Odessa B. Parker

photo by Rocky Dennis

photo by Rocky Dennis

photo by Rocky Dennis

Cabrito Castrato 12:21 AM

The anecdotes from our East Austin correspondent The Wacissa Kid may sound like tall tales, but Sleeping Horse Pills can assure you that it is simply another case of facts that are indeed stranger than fiction.  Some of you may remember our review of "Dust Takes Root", a cassette of The Kid's music project The Unpopular Plant Series in issue #2 of Sleeping Horse Pills.

Chuco and Taco are two goats who live in harmony with Bob the dog and a smattering of fowl on Jason's East Austin sanctuary of awesomeness.  What follows is a tale of violence, compassion, suspense and the sexual organs of farm animals. 

CABRITO CASTRATO by The Wacissa Kid

Some things you should know about my goats:

When they scream, it sounds like a child screaming. Urgently.

As teenagers, they were incredibly destructive. They still are.

They like to drink their own pee, and the look on their faces after says 'God, that was awful! I think I'll do it again....WTF?!', all rolled into one.

They like to climb on things, like cars, chicken coops, and I'm pretty sure they've looked longingly at the roof of my house.

Chuco, the one this story is going to be about, learned to say my dogs' name, Bob, while he was trying to mount him. He also blows in Bob's ear.

This is not about Bob, but Bob likes this at times.

They have both attempted to hook up with the possibly hermaphroditic rooster, a gift from my pal Luke.

They peed on him, because that is what goats do when they're hot for you and you can't give them what they need.

The rooster, not Luke. 

All this stems from the testosterone coursing through their goatly veins. In short, they are being goats in the place I have provided for them. I haven't done the best job, having underestimated the strange intelligence of goats, but it's been irritating, fun, shocking, and disgusting. I recommend it.

I really did think this was the best option. It was that, or kill and eat them.

Give them away on Craigslist?

Believe me, I've seen lots of 'give-away' ads on craigslist for billy goats and I'm sure most end up in the pot.

Castrating them seemed like a better way.

I had never done this before; actually, I neutered a cat once, but under supervision and the cat was sedated. Precedent.

Let me outline three of the methods I found on the internet.

Across the spectrum of goat-related sites and advice columns, they stayed consistent.

1. Burdizzo
   
   This involves a screwed-up looking metal clamp-thing that you use to crush the cord inside the goats' testes without breaking the skin or cutting anything off. This stops the blood flow, and they atrophy and shrink up.
   I didn't go this route because I couldn't find one, and I didn't want my goats to have pendulous empty flagons hanging from their nethers. 
   
   
   
   
   
   
2. Banding Method
   This involves stretching an industrial-strength rubber band around their balls and leaving it there until they fall off.
   I bought one, and a package of the little doughnut-shaped bands, but their balls were too big to fit through the device...any dudes out there in need of such a thing?
   
   
   
   
   
3. The Knife Method
   This is performed without anesthesia, and somehow goats don't die from it. You squeeze the testes as far up as you can, and then cut off the bottom 1/3 of ball sack. The balls pop out, you yank them out to expose the cord, and then, instead of a nice clean cut, you're supposed to saw back and forth creating a ragged wound which will close up better than a clean one.
   I have no idea why this sounded like something I should do.

So, I went with the Knife Method. I had cut a cats' balls off once, and that wasn't so bad, so why should this be any different?
I decided on a fillet knife that had never been used.... for precisely that reason.
Wound-closure powder from a first aid kit, and a 3ml syringe filled with tetanus vaccine rounded out the needed equipment.

I had two people to help me restrain the goat during the procedure, and I am thankful for that and to them, in volumes. Don't ever attempt this without someone to help you.

We made sure that the rubber-band contraption wouldn't fit, like one ball at a time or something, but it was a no-go.

I sterilized the area with hydrogen peroxide, gathered up something resembling courage, and cut the weird, callused end off of Chuco's ballsack. There wasn't any blood, and the yell he let out didn't seem comensurate with what I had just done. The elongated white lemons posing as his testicles popped right out in the open.

Holy crap, there was no going back now.

The idea was to pull them out and cut the cord.

I grabbed the first one, I think it was the left, and tugged. Not only was it slippery as hell, but it seemed pretty entrenched. Like trying to wrestle an oyster. Have you tried that? It isn't easy.

So I got as much as I thought I could, and then attempted to do the 'ragged sawing' motion advised by the goat-related community; this did not work.

My knife lore is probably not what it should be, but somehow, the sleek blade of the fillet knife just didn't do anything that wasn't clean through.

So I cut them clean through, left then right. 

Some blood came out after the second one, but I dusted it with wound-stop powder to clot the blood and seal the wound. And it looked like it was working.

We started to let him go and suddenly the blood just started flowing! Crazy red, like nail polish when first applied; wait, no, nail polish is just like fresh blood, crazy red...anyways.

By this time he was pretty quiet, and his eyes were actually closed. I started thinking I would have to kill and dress a goat that evening, something I was not planning on, nor totally prepared for.

The wound kept bleeding, not heaving arterial pumps, but steady-as-she-goes out onto the wood.

There wasn't any more wound-closure powder, but I remembered hearing that corn-starch was a good clotting agent, so Luke ran over to his house and got some.

We dusted that poor goats' injury thoroughly. And it kept bleeding.

I was trying to prepare myself for the eventual need to end his life when we all decided that we should let him up and have a go at it before we decided anything.

We released the poor creature, and he slowly got up and then delicately climbed up the rock retaining wall in my yard and then made his way to the chicken coop where he stood in the corner and sulked.

It's true, goats can sulk.

There was a little trail of blood where he had been, but nothing excessive. Whatever that means.

After gathering ourselves a bit, we checked on him in the coop. He had a look on his face that said 'fuck you guys!' and he looked pretty put out by the whole thing. He was still dripping a bit, but not pouring like when we had him on his side, so it was decided he'd probably live.

The next big decision was what to do with the balls themselves; fry them up and eat them, throw them away, or give them to Bob, the dog.

I sure as hell didn't have any appetite after that, and nobody else did either, so I decided Bob should have a go at what had been having a go at him for so long.

There was a little bit of hairy skin left out in the yard, but since I don't know anything about tanning leather and it was so small, I left that one for yard-creatures.

People keep asking me why I didn't make something out of it, but really, it was tiny. Maybe large enough to make a cozy for a dog's nose if you stretched it.

I put the balls in Bobs' bowl, say that three times fast if you please, and we stepped back to see what he'd do. He gently picked them up in his mouth, and then just dropped them on the floor like the sad corpses of miniature seals that have been clubbed to death and left on the beach.

Gross.

I threw them over the fence into the woods, knowing Bob would find them in a few days, perfectly aged. That's just how some dogs roll.

By the next morning, Chuco was still sulking in the chicken-coop, but looked fine and had stopped bleeding entirely. There didn't seem to be any infection, and one never developed.

He has made the sort of recovery that I wanted; healed and active, but not like before.

Less horny, less destructive, not as covered in his own pee. He is also a little more wary of human beings.

Now, he stares silently from the roof of the car as Taco tries to do what he no longer can.

You could read a lot into that look, really.

So, I know this happens daily on farms all over the world in some fashion or other, but at times I still feel like I did something pretty fucked up. I mutilated an animals' genitals.... damn.

Granted, it wasn't out of anger, and it saved him from the dinner-table, but still.

I think that now, as the destruction of my yard has lessened somewhat, I feel better about it,

even okay. Not so sure I'd do it again. There has to be some kind of negative psychological impact from cutting off goat-balls on a regular basis, and I don't want to find out what it is.

Thank you,

The End.

Sticks and Stones Motherfucker 10:29 PM

Super Bowl XLV has come and gone. The 10% of the population that actually gave a shit about the actual football game got to watch it while having the added benefit of getting to show how much they care about football to the other 90% of the people at the Super Bowl party who were just there to get drunk and eat some fucking chicken wings.


It's telling that the only subject talked about with any real excitement before and after the big game are the multimillion-dollar commercials and the train wreck that is the Super Bowl Halftime Show. I didn't watch the Super Bowl this year so I missed out on all the hype. Although I've been to some pretty sweet Super Bowl parties, I guess I've never really been that interested in any of the actual games. I haven't gotten excited to the point of high fives or a celebratory dance when a team does well and I haven't ever been pissed off when the action on the gridiron isn't going my way. I'll tell you what does piss me off though, the fact that I can't think about the Super Bowl without thinking of Janet Jackson's tit and all the repercussions her "wardrobe malfunction" has had on my right to enjoy obscene, indecent and profane broadcasts in all their glory.

The seven Bureaus and eleven Staff Offices that comprise the Federal Communications Commission are hell bent on winning the war on indecency and protecting our families and most importantly, our children, from the evils of things like the word "fuck" or a middle aged titty flopping out during one of the most viewed television events in America.



The FCC definitions for what is considered obscene, indecent or profane are so vague and subjective that it's got everybody on radio and television too scared to say anything at all that might upset someones sensibilities of what is moral and decent. This is the definition of obscenity outlined on the official government website for the FCC:

Obscene Broadcasts Are Prohibited At All Times

Obscene material is not protected by the First Amendment to the Constitution and cannot be broadcast at any time. The Supreme Court has established that, to be obscene, material must meet a three-pronged test:

• An average person, applying contemporary community standards, must find that the material, as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest;

• The material must depict or describe, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct specifically defined by applicable law; and

• The material, taken as a whole, must lack serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.

Who the fuck is "an average person? Where do they live? What the hell are "contemporary community standards"? The popularity of Podcasts and Satellite Radio services has skyrocketed in the last five years. It seems most folks would rather hear something genuine and entertaining than tune into some Clear Channel affiliate, broadcasting talk radio hosts and disc jockeys, who have been effectively muzzled by the fear of fines or losing their job because they made one too many fart jokes or didn't clip that F-bomb in time. After Jackson's mammary misstep during Super Bowl XXXVIII the FCC launched a major assault on indecency issuing a record 7.9 million in fines during 2004. The Buggles got it all wrong, video didn't kill the radio star, Janet Jackson's fucking titty did!


It's time for America to stop worrying about "bad" words. America also needs to evolve past this irrational fear of sex and sexuality. If you find something offensive because it depicts or describes activities that provoke your "prurient interest", then change the fucking channel. If you're worried about your children being exposed to something you personally find obscene, indecent or profane then you should spend some time talking with them and encourage them to use their own good judgement when they encounter life's experiences. Pretending that sex doesn't happen and that words will hurt you as badly as sticks and stones, will fuck a kid up 1000 times more than seeing a brief shot of a booby on television or reading the word fuck hundreds of times while perusing Sleeping Horse Pills.

Condensed Timeline of The FCC's Battle Against Indecency

Feb. 23rd, 1927

The Radio Act of 1927 is signed into law giving the Federal Radio Commission the responsibility of regulating US radio communications "as public convenience, interest or necessity requires". Although not allowed to interfere with free speech, the law does state that “No person within the jurisdiction of the United States shall utter any obscene, indecent, or profane language by means of radio communications".

Jan. 6th, 1957

For his appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, cameramen are ordered to shoot from the waist up because Elvis' gyrating pelvis was just too suggestive for t.v.

Jan. 15th, 1967

Rolling Stones agree to change the "objectionable" lyrics "Let's Spend the Night Together" to "Let's Spend Some Time Together" for their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show.

April 29th, 1987

The FCC revises their definition of indecency to state “material that, in context, depicts or describes sexual or excretory activities or organs in terms patently offensive as measured by contemporary community standards for the broadcast medium".

Sept. 1st, 1995

Infinity Broadcasting pays 1.7 million in fines to the FCC for various violations by Howard Stern. At the time it is the largest cumulative fine for indecency ever paid.

Feb. 1st, 2004

Janet Jackson's nipple results in a $550,000 fine issued to Viacom and an intense crackdown on indecency by the FCC.

June 15th, 2006

President Bush signs the Broadcast Decency Enforcement Act of 2005 into law. It increases the maximum fine allowed from $32,000 to $320,000.

July 13th, 2010

The Second Circuit court vacates the FCC order and policy based on First Amendment grounds. The court finds that "by prohibiting all 'patently offensive' references to sex, sexual organs, and excretion without giving adequate guidance as to what 'patently offensive' means, the FCC effectively chills speech, because broadcasters have no way of knowing what the FCC will find offensive. To place any discussion of these vast topics at the broadcaster’s peril has the effect of promoting wide self-censorship of valuable material which should be completely protected under the First Amendment".

Way Outside The Bun 10:22 PM

We've all heard by now of the latest lawsuit launched against Taco Bell regarding its Seasoned Beef.  Fast food chains are no strangers to the courtroom and class action lawsuits.  How can we forget the 1994 Liebeck v. McDonald's case in which Stella Liebeck won a $2.86 million dollar settlement because the coffee she purchased at McDonald's burned her when she dumped that shit in her lap and the sweatpants she was wearing absorbed the scalding liquid, holding it against her skin (the initial amount awarded by the jury was later reduced to $640.000).  And of course, the 2005 incident involving Anna Ayala and Wendy's Old Fashioned Hamburgers.  Ayala claimed that while enjoying a bowl of delicious Wendy's chili, she bit into a human fingertip.  Folding under the pressure of an intensive investigation by the San Jose authorities and health officials, Anna and her husband finally admitted to planting the fingertip in the chili themselves.  She was sentenced to 9 years in prison and her husband got 12.

The most recent litigation hardly seems worth the effort of denying yourself a run to the border after stumbling up and down 6th street doing shots in every bar and going home alone to jerk off into a couple of wadded up scraps of paper decorated with bits of shredded lettuce some cheese and those little plastic corners of Fire Sauce™ packets before you pass out.

The lawsuit claims that Taco Bell and its parent corporation YUM! Brands, inc. are unlawfully referring to their all purpose filling as beef.  Apparently some lawyers got together and took a Volcano Double Beef Burrito (or some other variation of what is essentially the same fucking thing.  The only real choice you have at Taco Bell is whether or not you want your shit crunchy or soft) to a lab.  Minds were blown and the indignation of betrayal gripped our hearts when the results came back stating that the ground beef mixture at Taco Bell was only 35% actual beef!  The other 66% is allegedly binders, extenders, preservatives and the broken dreams of the woman in the donkey show in Tijuana.

Never one to be caught on siesta, Taco Bell has denied any laziness regarding food quality and has come out swinging harder than 15,000 kids with piñatas at one of the multiple Quinceañeras happening on any given weekend at Fiesta Gardens in East Austin.  The official statement from El Presidente of Taco Bell, Greg Creed, states that the lawsuit is bogus and that Taco Bell's beef is 100% USDA inspected.  Mr. Creed and YUM! Brands inc. are so intent not to let a bunch of pendejos pull the sombrero over our eyes that they went ahead and released their secret recipe online.

• 88% USDA-inspected quality beef
• 3-5% water for moisture
• 3-5% spices (including salt, chili pepper, onion powder, tomato powder, sugar, garlic powder, cocoa powder and a proprietary blend of Mexican spices and natural flavors).
• 3-5% oats, starch, sugar, yeast, citric acid and other ingredients that contribute to the quality of our product.

Well, there you go.  Let the battle of the beef begin!  I guess my reaction to all of this is pretty much the way I react to a chihuahua barking menacingly at me, Who Fucking Cares?!  First of all, if anybody that was eating Taco Bell on a regular basis before this lawsuit actually believed that they were eating quality food, then they are an idiot.  Secondly, regardless of the final lab results determining what's inside that crunchy taco supreme combo, I personally am not going to change the frequency of my visits to Taco Bell and neither will anybody else.

Besides the possible discovery that Taco Bell's "proprietary" blend of spices consists of chihuahua puke and the salty tears of exploited farm workers, the thing we should really be upset about are the actual USDA requirements for labeling a product "Beef".

The lawsuit claims that Taco Bell's 35% meat mixture is just below the USDA standard.  Taco Bell claims that their filling contains 88% beef, which is well above the USDA minimum requirement.  The standard for what constitutes meat is defined by the USDA as "flesh of animals".  According to the USDA, the percentage of animal flesh a product must contain in order to qualify as meat is a whopping 40%!  That's pretty low.  So, before you start to go all loco on Taco Bell you need to realize that the USDA has only got our backs on 40% of any meat mixture on the market.  I guess if I have to take that risk with everything out there, I might as well have it stuffed into a neon colored corn tortilla, served 24 hours a day, with a cute dog reciting cultural phrases with an accent that accurately portrays racial stereotypes.

I swear I could riff forever on Fast Food because that shit's funny.  But to be honest, I have been craving a Meximelt and six Crunchy Tacos with about 40 ounces of Dr. Pepper since I started writing this rant on rental food.  Adios Amigos!

Going Postal: Workingman's Blues 12:21 AM

"So and So has a job.  Gets up at a certain time, goes to a certain place.  Takes a lot of pride in his work but it's not what he would choose to do.  Just does it for the money and the opportunity."

                                                                        - Built to Spill
                                                                          So & So So & So From Wherever Wherever

I have never been a career oriented person.  Although I attended college directly after graduating High School, good drugs combined with an utter lack of direction ultimately led to my expulsion (there's a longer story there for another time.  Just remind me to tell you about being kicked out of college for "Squirrel Hunting").  I took a few years off and then went back and got a BFA.   Needless to say, I have done nothing but punch clocks and work a 40 hour work week for most of my life.

As a member of the American workforce I quickly realized that climbing up a corporate ladder was not my bag.  I've exhibited skills and abilities in many jobs that could have put me on that fast track to success, but I guess the allure of Middle Management escapes me.

I've experienced more than my fair share of bosses, managers and supervisors.  I've worked under people that have run the gamut from amazing to piece of shit to burned out robot and everything in between.  I've been cited for insubordination.  I've come close to blows with a supervisor.  I've walked out on a job and I've been fired a couple times.  I've gotten falling down drunk with some bosses and I've bought illicit substances from or supplied them to a few.  I've become close friends with a boss or two. 

Ascending the Corporate Ladder

Regardless of how good or bad it's been, I've always been able to walk away at the end of the day.  A shitty boss might have the pleasure of exerting their power over me while I'm on the clock.  But when I punch out and we walk out those doors, I have the extreme pleasure of knowing that in the real world I am the better person and that those titles and influence don't mean shit out here.

I guess that's always been enough for me but some unhappy employees just get pushed to the edge.  I remember when people would say "going postal" to describe someone getting angry to the point of losing control.  The term was made popular after several incidents of United States Postal employees shooting and killing managers, among others in the late 80's and early 90's.  In the 11 years between 1986 and 1997 workplace rage claimed the lives of more than 40 people.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, murder is officially among the top 5 causes of work-related deaths in the United States.

In "Bad Days (Aurally Excited Version)", The Flaming Lips daydream about being stuck, hating your boss and ending those bad days by showing him no mercy.  Hit the player and enjoy the tune while you read the following synopsis of 5 non-postal incidents of people who killed their bosses.

*Sleeping Horse Pills intends for this to be informative and entertaining.  SHP and it's affiliates in no way condone violence in any form.  Relax for Christ's sake!  It's just a fucking job, it's not your life!*



1.  Ernesto Hernandez Avalos murdered Woo Sung Park in January 2007.

• Ol' Ernesto didn't like being told he was doing his landscaping work too slowly by his boss, Woo Sung Park.  So he beats Park in the head with his shovel six or seven times before switching to a pick axe.  Well, it was hot that day and the meth he did before showing up to work probably didn't help things any.

2.  Russel Carter murdered Kingsley Monk in October 2008.

• Carter drove a truck for Monk and figured he was owed about £3000 in wages.  When Monk wouldn't pay up, Carter beat him with a pipe and strangled him to death with his own tie.  Three other employees were able to escape after Carter doused them with gasoline and lit the building on fire.  The jury rejected his attempt to invoke insanity and he was sentenced to 30 years.

3.  Martin Hoffman murdered Peter Makris in July 2000.

• Hoffman was 35 years old when he was a deliveryman for Pepe's Pizza owned by Peter Markis.  Although, he claimed that the 72 year old Markis was more like a father than a boss, it didn't stop him from stabbing him to death while attempting to rob him.  He was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

4.  Yolanda Saldivar murdered Selena Quitanilla Perez in 1995.

• In 1995 Perez was the 23 year old Queen of the Tejano music scene and Saldivar was the president of her fan club.  When it became known that Saldivar was embezzling money from the singer, she arranged a meeting to deny the allegations in a Corpus Christi, TX. hotel room.  It was there that Saldivar shot and killed the rising young star of Tejano.

5.  Eric Allen Kirkpatrick murdered Benjamin David Banky in December 2008.

• The 61 year old Kirkpatrick was fired from the natural health products company of which Banky was the CEO.  A day later, at the company Christmas party Kirkpatrick showed up and opened fire, killing Banky.  Apparently he thought he was wrongfully fired or maybe he just thought two drink tickets at the company Christmas party was simply not a sufficient display of gratitude from his employer.  Either way, he didn't win the raffle and the karaoke was pretty lame after the two-hour negotiation with the police.