"IMMATURITY 101 . . . . DO NOT RESTRAIN YOUR INNER CHILD"
I've always tried to stay in touch with the shit that gave me the biggest tingly rush as a kid, possibly too much according to my ex wife and mum and dad, to the point where my maturation processes have been pretty retarded I guess.
As I grew older, certainly by the time I hit my twenties, it became obvious that a lot of my mates, my own parents, people I met at gigs, strangers who didn't even know me, would be making all sorts of fucked up value calls about me based on the shit that I was passionate about . . . . whether it was skateboards, bikes, cars, music, Rat Fink, Hot Wheels, whatever, these were all things they thought were the domain of kids and immature fucktards. When are you going to get a real job, are you going to finish your degree, aren't you too old to be playing with skateboards, why don't you just grow up ????
Well, here and now, at the age of fifty, nearly fifty one, my enthusiasm for all the wonderful things I hold dear hasn't diminshed one iota, not one fucking bit, if anything those feelings have only become stronger and more entrenched . . . .
I'm still a chatterbox, still the class clown, I'm putting my foot in it, always the kid in the candy store, sure, it gets me into strife, more serious folk get weirded out by it, people conjure up alterior motives that simply don't exist . . . . I like people, I'm gregarious by nature, until I find out they're cunts at least, I tend to gravitate towards like minded souls and I probably do it with too little thought as to consequences, the fact that 'words', when divorced from the physical presence of the speaker, can become terribly misconstrued and misrepresented doesn't always cross my mind until it's too late . . . . fuck, this isn't where this post was supposed to be heading !!!
Aaaarrrgh . . . . anyway, I love Ed Roth and his legacy as much as I love all those other things I have made mention of above and have done with relentless consistency for most of my life, I'm 'entitled' to present my take on things, my spin on commonly shared passions and beliefs, Rat Fink and his creator are purely emblematic of this . . . .
I don't have to 'earn' my stripes, I've done my time and put in the hard yards, I can still get 'it' wrong, especially on matters of a technical and historical nature but I'm still open to being learned, and I'll learn from the experience, providing someone is forthright enough to tell me at the time . . . . think what you like, I don't give a bag of frosted cocks, unless I figure you're possibly worth caring about, in which case I'll be the first to extend an olive branch . . . . this blog, these comments, all of it . . . . this is me, if you don't like it, then cool, you don't need to be here and I'll bid you a fond farewell.
I've always tried to stay in touch with the shit that gave me the biggest tingly rush as a kid, possibly too much according to my ex wife and mum and dad, to the point where my maturation processes have been pretty retarded I guess.
As I grew older, certainly by the time I hit my twenties, it became obvious that a lot of my mates, my own parents, people I met at gigs, strangers who didn't even know me, would be making all sorts of fucked up value calls about me based on the shit that I was passionate about . . . . whether it was skateboards, bikes, cars, music, Rat Fink, Hot Wheels, whatever, these were all things they thought were the domain of kids and immature fucktards. When are you going to get a real job, are you going to finish your degree, aren't you too old to be playing with skateboards, why don't you just grow up ????
Well, here and now, at the age of fifty, nearly fifty one, my enthusiasm for all the wonderful things I hold dear hasn't diminshed one iota, not one fucking bit, if anything those feelings have only become stronger and more entrenched . . . .
I'm still a chatterbox, still the class clown, I'm putting my foot in it, always the kid in the candy store, sure, it gets me into strife, more serious folk get weirded out by it, people conjure up alterior motives that simply don't exist . . . . I like people, I'm gregarious by nature, until I find out they're cunts at least, I tend to gravitate towards like minded souls and I probably do it with too little thought as to consequences, the fact that 'words', when divorced from the physical presence of the speaker, can become terribly misconstrued and misrepresented doesn't always cross my mind until it's too late . . . . fuck, this isn't where this post was supposed to be heading !!!
Aaaarrrgh . . . . anyway, I love Ed Roth and his legacy as much as I love all those other things I have made mention of above and have done with relentless consistency for most of my life, I'm 'entitled' to present my take on things, my spin on commonly shared passions and beliefs, Rat Fink and his creator are purely emblematic of this . . . .
I don't have to 'earn' my stripes, I've done my time and put in the hard yards, I can still get 'it' wrong, especially on matters of a technical and historical nature but I'm still open to being learned, and I'll learn from the experience, providing someone is forthright enough to tell me at the time . . . . think what you like, I don't give a bag of frosted cocks, unless I figure you're possibly worth caring about, in which case I'll be the first to extend an olive branch . . . . this blog, these comments, all of it . . . . this is me, if you don't like it, then cool, you don't need to be here and I'll bid you a fond farewell.
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