There are things around this house that need to be done.

Light fixtures to replace. Doors to repaint. One slat of vinyl siding that sticks out like a cowlick every time the wind blows.

Unfortunately, I’m not the person for the job.

I accept that. I’ve never claimed to be a handyman.

I’m more of a “handsy-man.”

I fondle and grope things that I have no business touching.

I forget my personal boundaries. Mistakes are made. Sometimes there are tears.

What I’m saying is nobody picks me first during the Mr. Fix-It draft. Nobody wants an unskilled crybaby on their team.

DIY is not in my DNA.

Nevertheless, I have a LIST.

It’s not an actual list, posted on the fridge where I can see it every day. It lives inside my head. Picture dozens of microscopic Post-It notes tacked up in my cerebellum and whatever part of the brain is responsible for home repair.

This list haunts me. Inside the house, every room has a reminder. Outside is even worse.

Unpainted thresholds. The little spot of wood rot by the garage. The no-clog gutter that decided to become a yes-clog gutter.

And that asshole squirrel who built a nest between the siding and the stucco just above the electric meter? He definitely needs to go. His ugly pink kids too.

But so many tasks can be overwhelming. Where to start. How to start. And more importantly, how to finish. I always get stuck on how to stick the landing.

Clinically speaking, I suffer from a severe craftsmanship deficiency. My “completed” projects are more MacGyver than Property Brothers. All rough edges and wonky lines.

Maybe it’s impatience. Maybe incompetence. My heart’s in the right place but my brain just isn’t wired that way.

To be clear, I’m not completely useless.

Lightbulbs get changed. Broken gate latches get replaced. Once upon a time I installed a ceiling fan all by myself.

If you walk into my garage, you will find tools that have seen action. There’s saw dust on the work bench and a rack of DeWalt batteries charged and ready to go.

Every time I break out the Sawzall, I do my Scarface impression (“Say hello to my little friend!”) before going medieval on a wooden pallet that my wife asked me to “make disappear.” It’s fun, even without cocaine!

I climb ladders, install sump pumps and sink disposals, and replace sections of irrigation hose that rodents rip to shreds. Whatever needs doing, I’m not afraid to watch a YouTube video and at least try.

Or think about trying. Or make concrete plans to try at a later date.

But I’ve come to accept that I’m never going to be THAT guy. The guy that can tear a room down to the studs and start all over again. The guy who can do angles and corners and joints. A guy who starts something and doesn’t end up making it worse.

Does that make me sad? You bet. Maybe more than I’ve ever previously admitted.

Has writing about it opened a fresh wound that leaves me feeling like less of a man? Honestly… I think so.

Do I need a minute to calm down before continuing? No thank you, let’s carry on…

What now?

“You can’t be good at everything,” is maybe what I’ll tell myself. That’s a healthy way of thinking about it. That seems sensible.

Maybe stick to my lane. Lean into my natural talents.

I make a nice omelet. I’m an enthusiastic vacuumer. If you need to know the name of that guy from that movie? I’m your man. (FYI, you’re thinking of Edward Herrmann)

But if you need structural work done that involves electrical wiring and baseboard installation and straight edges and smooth surfaces? You should call someone else.

And if they do a nice job, please give their number to my wife.

Five Song Friday: Episode #205 Playlist

Want some music? Here it is…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Hey there little buddy. If you’re going where I think you’re going, I think you should turn around and go back where you came from.

School is no place for children.

That building over there? Bad news.

Sure, they lure you in with books and lockers and water fountains. They dazzle you with a lobby case of trophies and plaques. And I bet there’s at least one science classroom with a skeleton in the corner wearing a sombrero that everybody calls “Señor Bones.”

But it’s all a facade. A charade. A sham.

Beyond those doors, there’s nothing but heartache, heartbreak and heartburn. Once that first bell rings, they GOT you. Game over.

So buckle up and hold on to your heiny-hole!

Welcome to Thunderdome, right? But instead of fighting some beefy hulk with a chainsaw, you’re up against teachers, principals and a few hundred child lunatics pumped full of hormones and sugar.

Imagine walking into a UFC octagon, armed only with a backpack and glue sticks. No holds barred. But instead of 5-minute rounds, you fight for 50-minutes. Six times a day, every day for twelve years.

I know you thought you were just showing up to learn fractions and geography and whatever, but that’s just not the case. That place? That place will reach down your throat, yank out your soul and RUIN you.

Man, I knew kids who were so full of life and light. Skipped and sang all the way to school. By the end, they were HUSKS. Empty skin bags full of broken dreams.

Still with me? You look pretty upset. I don’t mean to freak you out, but I figure there should be at least one grown-up who gives it to you straight.

I wish someone was square with me when I was your age.

I looked a lot like you. Eyes wide and full of hope with a head full of nothing. I had no idea what to expect, so I just walked face first into the meat grinder. And back in my day, school was way more messed up.

We were forced to shower with boys and square dance with girls. Our pizza slices were rectangles. And the only phone we had was bolted to the wall and cost a quarter. If you wanted to use it, you had to wait in line.

You ever made a call when the receiver was still warm from another person’s ear? It’s not pleasant.

Ever taken a number two in a bathroom stall without doors? Lost a coin flip and had to play on the “skins” side of a soccer game? You ever bring a pencil to a standardized test and find out too late that it had a funky eraser that just smudged and smeared?

I know your generation struggles with stuff I never had to deal with… like social media, gender identity, and watermelon vapes.

But I would trade it all to have had the internet and AI.

When I had to write a report? I used an encyclopedia. Do you even know what that is? It’s like Wikipedia, but in a couple dozen leather-bound books that weighed 500 pounds and cost a million dollars.

And I didn’t live in one of those fancy houses with a full set of Britannicas. If I wanted to write about sharks, I had to go door-to-door like a goddamned Dickens character and beg my wealthy neighbors for the letter “S.”

Then, somehow I’d have to transform those six, very broadly written paragraphs into a research paper, a poster board display AND a shoebox diorama. I was all on my own. I couldn’t ask Siri and I couldn’t Google shit.

It was brutal, but I survived.

I made it across the finish line, got my diploma and headed into the big bad world. And as it turns out? Life out here is even worse than life in there.

Because you don’t get snow days. You don’t get gold stars and cupcakes on kid’s birthdays. And if you puke in the hallway? There’s nobody to come around with a bucket of sawdust and clean up your mess.

What you get is nothing. You get nothing and sometimes you get cancer.

But… if you work hard and stay clean and the nice man at the lab gives you a thumbs-up every time you go pee-pee in a plastic cup? Then you get to work two hours a day for five days a week as a crossing guard.

Thanks for listening, kid. It looks like the coast is clear. Have a great first day and I’ll see you again at 3 o’clock!

A Quick Note

This is a rerun. Hopefully, this marks the end of the summer repeats. The past two months have been packed with unpleasant surprises, extenuating circumstances and an unhealthy amount of medical attention. But things are settling down. I sense the coming calm after the storm.

And I have it on good authority that’s exactly the way life works.

You go through some rough patches until you come out the other side into the sunshine. Butterflies and rainbows. Giggles and sprinkles.

So I’m looking forward to that part. The part where everything gets calm and boring and emotionally beige. The part where I can stop writing notes about myself and get back to the serious business of being unserious.

See you on the other side!

Five Song Friday: Episode #167 Playlist

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

It’s been a busy week. Too busy to write for real.

Instead of a fresh batch of nonsense, I offer excerpts from my personal journal entries.

Monday

Made it through the weekend! Back to work with a fresh, positive attitude and a packed day of video calls. I love interacting with people on camera!

I briefly considered un-blurring my background so people could see all the cool stuff I have on the bookshelves behind me. What’s the point of putting all of it back there if the only thing people see is smudgy blobs? Why even have a cow skull on top of an old typewriter if nobody ever sees it?

It’s not like people are ever going to come into my home office. Nobody is wandering in off the street to say, “Oh cool! A mini crossbow!” or “Hey, a turntable! Does that thing work!” or “Look at those framed hip-hop records on the wall! You seem pretty fly for a white guy!”

Nobody gives a shit about my globe. Or the big wooden buddha. And how is anyone going to ask me about the harmonica if it isn’t even in frame?

I also sent a note to HR asking if I was off “explicit t-shirt” probation yet. Restated my free speech argument. Waiting on a response.

Tuesday

I went to my therapist and just LOST it this morning.

We went deep about my feelings of loss and disappointment. I don’t think I’ve ever been more emotionally vulnerable in conversation and it was intense.

Went through half a box of tissues. A few people poked their heads in to see if everything was okay on account of all the wailing.

At the end I was spent, soaked through with tears and limp like a wrung out rag. On the way out, she asked me if next week we could talk about something other than Ted Lasso. Rude!

Wednesday

Doctor’s appointment this morning. It went well.

We talked about stuff inside my body, looked at some scans, updated a few prescriptions. Then I asked if he’d heard the new Phoebe Bridgers album and he said no. So I played it on my phone and we both just sat in silence and listened to the whole thing. It was nice.

Tonight I finally went to see Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey in IMAX! It was very loud and very long. I’d heard that MAGA was upset that the movie was so woke because they cast a trans actor as a brave Greek soldier and a woman of color as Helen of Troy. If that stuff makes you mad, you’re just a terrible person.

What really bugged me was all the vaping! Did they even have those things in ancient Greece? It totally took me out of the movie.

I was also not a fan of the ending when (spoiler alert!) Matt Damon returns home and gets revenge on his enemies. The fighting was good and I love stabby sword violence, but was it really necessary to have him do the food thing?

You’re supposed to be the wisest, bravest warrior who ever lived. You have a perfectly good dagger pressed to the throat of your nemesis. Are we really supposed to believe you would toss away your weapon, reach for a fruit basket and jam a red delicious down his cakehole just so you could say, “How do you like THOSE apples!?”

And then to immediately roll credits with “All Star” by Smashmouth? I expected more.

Thursday

Another doctor’s appointment! Different doctor from yesterday. Different body area. Totally unrelated to the other thing.

Sometimes I like to book appointments on consecutive days just to get everything out of the way but also to say hello to Betty the parking lot lady. She’s very nice like a grandma. Good at high-fives. But she has a filthy, filthy mouth and doesn’t charge me if I let her touch my beard.

Finished my father’s obituary today! I kept getting stuck but got inspired by the movie last night. I copied and pasted the full text of The Odyssey (Homer’s epic poem NOT the screenplay) into ChatGPT and said, “Write an obituary based on this, but instead of Odysseus, make it a guy named Jerry from Long Island.”

It was about 30,000 over the funeral home website’s word limit, but I made it work.

Friday

Woke up late today. Realized all my writing time this week was spent at morning appointments. Panicked briefly because I had no ideas. Stared at a blank screen sipping coffee until I remembered my weekly journal entries.

Edited out all the parts where I talk about my dreams. Briefly considered putting all the dream parts back in. But then realized that most of the ferret stuff makes no sense without a ton of backstory.

Drank another cup of coffee and hit “publish.”

Five Song Friday: Episode #204 Playlist

Want some music? Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Writing an obituary for my father is harder than I thought.

I’m already way over the funeral home website word count and I haven’t even mentioned the mustache or those cut-off jeans shorts he wore for the entire summer in 1982.

Now I just learned I can’t add footnotes or Monty Python GIFs?

What kind of memorial is that?

Let me back up.

My dad passed away last week. Complications from dementia. He was at home in North Carolina and it was a peaceful exit.

It’s taken me a while to wrap my head around things because I found out via text, first thing Friday morning while I was flat on my back in an ER bed after a 12-hour limbo in the waiting room.

But that’s a long story for another time.

And by another time I mean never, because it’s not one of those exciting long stories like The Odyssey. It mostly involved blood tests and forced ingestion of an NCIS marathon. I’m okay now. The end.

Back to my dad.

Like most fathers, he was complicated. Our relationship was complicated.

Which is why dashing off a summary of his life is proving so tough.

He was 78. But I only REALLY knew him for about 18 years.

I’m not sure how to recap the full arc of his life.

My brain wants to stick with the man I knew best, the guy who was in charge from the day I was born until the day he dropped me off at my college dorm.

I have a full head of childhood memories and piles of faded photos from 1970s Christmas mornings and awkward 1980s family vacations.

I can rattle off silly details all day that help make him a whole, real human being to people who never knew him.

He loved watching episodes of the original Star Trek.

He cooked tiny crocks of French onion soup that were likely well-made and delicious, but universally rejected by his kids because they tasted like “hot worm soup.”

He was a talented artist who summoned his powers sporadically. They appeared any time I needed a night-before assist on a shoebox diorama. I remember our fireplace mantel sprouted tiny snow-covered villages during the holidays and some kind of Christmas sculpture with googly-eyed walnuts.

He taught me to love comedy by sharing stand-up records and leaving his copies of National Lampoon where a kid could easily find them.

He loved going to the movies and pulled me out of school early so we could go see matinees of important films like Return of the Jedi, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and Aliens.

He fell in love with computers early. Stayed up all night programming a Radio Shack TRS-80 so he could show us in the morning that when he hit “run,” the screen would change colors.

He worked really hard at every job he had. He liked scotch. He was fun at parties.

Those are the things I saw. The things I remember and see in family albums.

But that’s not the way things actually were. My gauzy recall is missing all those adult nuances that give life depth and difficulty.

Nostalgia makes me an unreliable narrator.

Because like I said, he was complicated. My relationship with him was complicated. My siblings’ relationship with him was complicated.

Most of my warm fuzzy memories fade after my freshman year.

Much of that had to do with the passing of my mom in 1988.

It was cancer, but it felt like a plane crash that everyone but her survived. There was a huge smoking crater and we all stumbled away from the wreckage and walked off in different directions.

My dad took his path and I followed mine. Sometimes they crossed. Sometimes they clashed.

We had our moments, but the older we both got, those moments grew fewer and farther between.

That’s why writing his obituary is daunting.

But it’s got to be done, I guess. We need someplace to point people when we break the bad news. He’s gone… read this.

I’m going to need help filling in the gaps. Maybe this is where I fully embrace the cliche that a person’s life is a giant jigsaw puzzle. Everyone he knew has a handful of pieces.

It reminds me of the parable of the five blind men and the elephant.

Five blind men wandering through the woods stumble on an elephant. They’ve never met one and each reaches out to feel a different part. Each is convinced that their version is the absolute truth.

The guy touching the trunk declares, “An elephant is long and twisty like a snake.”

One near a leg says, “No, an elephant is thick and round like a tree.”

The poor schmuck in the back chimes in with, “Nope. An elephant is a big stinky hole that is mostly full of shit.”

So maybe what I’m saying is my dad was an elephant. I’m not blind, but I probably have blinders on.

And I’m not sure where I’m standing in this analogy, but I know whatever I have my hands on is only one part of a much bigger picture.

Let’s make this less weird and say I’m holding his mustache.

Five Song Friday: Episode #203 Playlist

Want some music? Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Thank you for downloading this important piece of career related, performance enhancing content.

As a remote work employee, it’s easy to feel isolated and alone.

For centuries, humans labored side-by-side in fields and factories and office parks. We are social animals who thrive on collaboration and break room birthday cake.

But everything changed in 2020. We were scattered to the wind and forced to figure out a new way of working. Today we’re still trying to figure it out.

At first, it was fun not having to get dressed. You felt invigorated by going whole days without anyone rap-a-tap-tapping on your door asking “if you have a minute.”

In those exciting first days of working from home, you were oozing with confidence, racking up accomplishments and positively buzzing from a near-constant productivity high.

Then came the struggles. The hallucinations. The crippling self-doubt and the late afternoon shower crying.

The good news is that I am here to help get you back on track.

I’m not saying that it will change your work life, but I’m also not NOT saying that it won’t.

This simple action makes it clear that you are serious about getting stuff done and adding value to your organization. Please take a moment to appreciate yourself with a short round of applause, a quick mirror affirmation or a light snack.

I’m proud of you.

You could have just as easily gone through another day of emails, chats, Zoom meetings and brainstorms without upsetting the status quo. But you choose proactivity over stagnation. Exceptionalism over mediocrity.

You are a rock star.

Not literally, because instead of shredding onstage for thousands of screaming fans, you sit home alone doing stuff on the computer for money.

Instead of groupies, you have two dogs who only care about you when it’s time to eat and when you feed them fancy food that comes in cartons, they say thanks by sleep-farting under your desk.

You are not a rock star who gets mad rich for being cool and talented.

You are a Remote Work Rock Star.

You wake up every morning and walk across the hall to face a new day of pre-assigned tasks and last-minute requests with the hope that somehow, some way, you can make a difference.

You lost your way. Let’s get your mojo back.

As promised, here are Simple Hacks for Restoring Your Work-from-Home Productivity Powers, Eliminating the Habit of Yelling at Your House Plants and Reducing the Deep Sadness That You Drag Around the House Like a Corpse.

Prioritize focus.

It’s easy to get distracted when you’re alone all day. That’s why I fashioned a special “attention hat” that keeps my eyes (and mind) from wandering. It’s basically a football helmet with a white noise machine glued on each ear hole and a pair of short PVC pipes that I use as “eye tubes.” You should make yourself one.

Use food and exercise as brain fuel.

You can’t think straight if your mind is starving. That’s why I use every opportunity to get up and go to the kitchen for a snack to keep my mental machine firing on all cylinders. Don’t worry if the time between refueling gets shorter and shorter, that just means your brain is working harder and harder and needs another bowl of cereal or slice of cold pizza. Maybe two slices if you’re doing anything that day with spreadsheets.

It’s also important to keep your body active. Sitting at the computer for hours and lifting heavy meatball sandwiches is not nearly enough physical activity to keep yourself sharp. Build a routine that really gets your heart pumping. Mine involves checking the mail every day and lots of stair work because that’s how I get to the refrigerator.

Take drugs every day.

If you ask the most successful people in the world how they get so much done, they’ll probably say something like “because of God” or “I was born to hustle.” But the truth is that they have lots of other people do stuff for them.

For the rest of us to keep up, we need drugs. I drink maybe two pots of coffee a day, a handful of Red Bulls and, as a treat, two dry spoonfuls of this stuff called Rooster Energy Powder I found at the Asian supermarket.

Maybe you prefer nicotine or chocolate. Or maybe you gobble ADD meds like Ms. Pac Man. If you lean towards the more illicit stuff? No judgement. Whatever works. We should def hang out sometime.

Make organization your religion.

Human brains are unreliable sometimes. It’s easy to forget your priorities and wander from task to task getting nowhere. That’s why lists are your best friend. Make them at every opportunity. I have notebooks full of lists that are covered in sticky notes that are also lists. One time I used a section of my office to make a HUGE list. My wife asked why I spray-painted “help me” over and over on the wall, but I told her she just didn’t understand work stuff.

Keep things in perspective.

Don’t forget to balance work and life. Work-life balance is really important. Because if you think too much about work and not enough about life? Not good. Because life is life and work is work and life. Work. The balance of both is life you can’t have work work without life life. So don’t forget to balance work on your life and do the same for work. It can be bad to not do that thing I just said. So just make sure you do it. Not even joking right now.

Okay? Make sense?

Everybody bring it in. On three…

One. Two. Three.

WORKLIFE!

Now when I say “Pro,” you say “ductivity.” Okay? Ready?

PRO!

…

PRO!

…

Great job. Good luck.

Now go show that PowerPoint deck who’s the boss!

Episode #154 Playlist

1. “Out Here (Cannonball)” - Shad

I liked the Breeders song “Cannonball” when it came out back in the 1990s and I liked it when this guy used it like hot sauce to make his rap song super spicy! I’ll probably like it in 10 years when some dumb sex robot sings it on American AI Idol. And long after I’m dead, I’ll like it when I’m buried deep in the dirt and I hear it faintly coming out of the groundskeeper’s headphones. It rules and shall always rule in any (and every) form that it takes. Try as you may, you will NOT convince me otherwise!

2. “Horizons” - Jesse Roper

Fun fact: Jesse Roper is NOT the son of Mr. Roper from Three’s Company. Mostly because Mr. Roper is a fictional character, but also because he looks nothing like Don Knotts. Also, he’s Canadian.

3. “Reach Out of The Darkness” - Friend & Lover

“I think it’s so groovy now / That people are finally getting together / I thinks it’s wonderful and how / That people are finally getting together.” As relevant as this song sounds to our current situation, these lyrics were NOT written yesterday. They could have been. It would have been super easy with a computer and Google Docs or whatever.

4. “Bang Bang Bang” - Mark Ronson, The Business Intl, MNDR

Is it dumb to call a song named “Bang Bang Bang” a banger? Probably, right? But I should do it anyway. BANGER! [runs away giggling]

5. “Wolf Like Me” - Gutter Swan

This is a cover of a TV on the Radio song. Maybe you know the original, maybe you don’t. It’s a song about love and werewolves. And I know what you’re thinking, “Oh no, not ANOTHER one.” But you should really give this one a chance. This is probably the best one.

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Birthday Quote

“Be humble. be hungry.” - Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (Born May 2, 1972)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Are you feeling okay? Because you look a bit off.

Is there a slight tickle in your throat? Are your eyes burning? Glands swollen?

Do you feel lethargic? Heart full of malaise? Lungs full of gunk?

Does any part of your body feel like it’s literally on fire? Dizzy? Woozy? Nauseous?

Are you shivering, seizing or stiff? Short of breath? Sudden moistness in previously non-moist areas?

Is there smoke coming from your underpants? Do your bones feel wet and loose?

I’m sorry to say, but you’re probably illin’ like Bob Dylan.

Odds are good you’re legit sick with the ICK.

Don’t feel bad, lots of people these days have something or other. Bugs are big. Viruses are all the rage.

It’s because humans are walking bags of germs and goo who breathe the same air and forget to wash their hands after doing a number two.

We’re also coming out of the holidays, a super-spreader season when people hug and swap spittle kisses. They share wine glasses and double dip the baby carrots. They bring children and pets and old people to parties.

It also doesn’t help that the government threw away all the good medicine because it was woke.

If you’re one of those rare folks who is NOT unwell, you can stay healthy by steering clear of the infected.

They’re easy to spot. Just look for the glazed eyes, rosy noses and slack jaws. Listen for froggy voices, constant sniffling and a frequent hacking cough.

They will also tell you with words.

Sick people love to let you know they’re sick. Especially men.

I can say this because I am a man who narrates his discomfort like Tony Romo calling an NFL game. If I’m one degree less than 100%, you’re going to hear about it.

Play by play. Ache by ache. A DVD director’s commentary on my sinus status.

If you live with a man who is occasionally ill, you know it’s relentless and you can’t text STOP to unsubscribe.

We don’t mean any harm, we’re just looking for sympathy and soup.

We need a soft, cool lady hand on our forehead to justify our whining and moaning.

Because even a possible fever is explicit permission to become a couch blanket burrito. It gives us a green light to watch Saving Private Ryan or anything with Batman.

Sickness validation is a golden ticket back to boyhood when mommy doted on us like a World War II field nurse.

We’re simple. We long for that tender, “oh you poor dear” sparkle in your eyes, even if secretly, it’s more of a curious, “what would it feel like to put my fist all the way through his face and out the back of his head” look.

The rest of the year, men argue every point and dismiss every suggestion from women. But once you tell us to “lay down and rest” when we’re not feeling good? We’re like a show dog at Westminster.

That’s why there are 28 episodes of Dateline about wives who spike their husband’s sweet tea with antifreeze.

That’s why America can’t have nice things.

But enough about me. If you’re under the weather, here’s some simple advice.

The quickest way to pull the emergency brake, get off the sicko train and order an Uber to drive you down the road to recovery?

Go to sleep.

If you’re working right now? Leave. Go home and get under the covers.

If you work from home? Walk into the next room. The one with the bed.

If you’re already in bed? Stay there. And stop looking at your phone.

If you’re doom-scrolling heinous headlines about the desecration of Democracy, the pillaging of public decency, and the unraveling of the fabric of the United States as we know it? Knock it off.

If you’re spiking your blood pressure watching video replays of tragic deaths, bald ghouls mumbling racist rhetoric or con artists blatantly using the Constitution to wipe their ass? Quit it. Shut your eyes and keep them shut.

I know the Republic is burning, but this is definitely a put-on-your-own-oxygen-mask-first kind of situation. You can’t save the world if you are sick, get sicker and then get dead.

Your body is a complex machine made of blood tubes, butt fat and muscle meat that needs time to heal.

Go to bed. Drink a glass of water. Maybe eat an orange.

If you’re under the weather, I sincerely hope you feel better soon.

If you’re physically healthy, mentally calm and emotionally stable?

Good for you, you freaking psycho.

* This is a rerun because there is something inside that will not leave. It has prevented me from doing much of anything. Thanks for your understanding!

Episode #182 Playlist

1. “Lonely (Bee and PuppyCat)” - Brad Sucks

2. “Manta Ray (Peel Session)” - Pixies

3. “Octopus I Love You” - Dalmatian Rex and the Eigentones

4. “Vest Poets” - Slow Cooked

5. “Chemwa” - Madalitso Band

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

This isn’t the summer vacation slideshow I wanted to give, but this is the one I have.

Thank you all for being here. Before we get started, all I ask is that you turn off your cellphones. Enjoy the selection of soft, non-crunchy snacks. And please save all questions until the end.

FYI: I will be using this laser pointer to highlight certain details, so please do not look directly into the beam.

Let’s get into it.

Paris was a nightmare.

[click]

This is us at the airport. Look closely at our faces and you can see smiles. A slight twinkle in the eyes. A spark of hope and optimism. Remember it, because that spark will not be featured in future slides.

[click]

As soon as you get off the plane, they give you a necklace like in Hawaii, except instead of flowers, it’s mini croissants. It’s kinda flimsy and the flaky crumbs get everywhere. I thought it was a “Welcome to France” snack, but apparently it’s disrespectful to eat the necklace, no matter how hungry you are. This is a picture of me getting yelled at with my mouth full.

[click]

The cab ride to the hotel was sweaty and awful because apparently every taxi has to have its own backseat accordion player and ours was this really heavy guy in a striped shirt and beret who was SMOKING IN THE CAR! I’m not saying the music didn’t add to the atmosphere, because it totally did. But you can clearly see here how his shirt was way too short… and that’s my elbow… right there… resting under his belly fat.

[click]

At the hotel, the front desk clerk had such a heavy accent. He sounded like a cassette tape getting eaten by a car stereo. He was like, “mmm-miss-your blah blah-blah doo-doo mumble-mumble” and I was like, WHAT??? And then he got mad. SO mad. He threw our passports across the room and made some sort of hand gesture that I can only assume had to do with sex and my mother.

This is a picture of the complimentary pastry tray in the lobby. You can see that everything has a bite taken out of it. WTF, right?

[click]

Our room was TINY. The “queen bed” was two rollaway cots bungee-tied together. The air conditioning was pathetic and instead of a bidet, they just put one of those old-timey seltzer bottles next to the toilet. The view was nice but we couldn’t use the balcony because of the pigeons.

They were aggressive and mostly just ate cigarette butts and stared at us through the glass. This is a picture of the big one who might have been set on fire once. Look at those eyes! Never blinked. He did that the WHOLE time. Even when it rained.

[click]

This is us in the elevator heading out to explore. Seconds before the doorman stopped me. He looked me up and down and seemed disappointed. He tugged on my beard, mocked my shorts and told me to go back upstairs and change. He said my wife’s outfit was fine and he would keep an eye on her while I was gone. I asked him if it was professional to have his shirt unbuttoned like that, but he pretended not to understand English.

[click]

The Louvre! It was absolutely mobbed. We had to take numbers and wait in groups. And to make sure that nobody cut in line or switched groups, they clumped us together and wrapped us in plastic. Someone ran around us with one of those saran wrap rolls you use for moving. It wasn’t mummy-style, but it wasn’t exactly loose either.

Luckily I had one hand free and took this picture of the next group over. You can see right there… they had to rip a hole so this person in a wheelchair could get air!

[click]

Once inside, they asked everybody to maintain a steady, “light jogging” pace which is why all my pictures are blurry. The only time we could stop and stand still was for the Mona Lisa. But, get this… we were told not to look directly at the painting. The only way to view it was through your camera. If you were caught making eye contact? You got slapped. No joke. Even kids. I’ve never seen anything like it.

[click]

The obligatory Eiffel Tower shot! It closed early every day because of the heat, so we missed the chance to go up in the elevator. I thought it would be fun to get a pic of me trying to climb it. So this is me, maybe a half second before I realized how hot the metal was. See right there? My eyes are so wide!

[click]

My wife says barely first-degree, but I asked Gemini and I’m pretty sure those were second-degree burns on both my hands. I had to wear special white gloves the rest of the trip and everywhere we went, tourists thought I was a mime.

[click]

Here’s a shot of the one time I decided to lean into it. I did this “climbing an invisible rope” routine on the street corner. Then some French lady threw a fit because—allegedly—one of the hand gestures had something to do with sex and her mother.

[click]

Some of you may be wondering, was the food in Paris amazing? Not exactly. We ordered a cheese plate once, but it was so hot outside that each different cheese merged into one big cheese. This is a picture of that cheese. Yes, it looks like a melting demon face. Yes, it smelled haunted. No, we did not finish it.

[click]

Next stop: The Catacombs! This is me with two thumbs up, pumped and ready to see some underground skulls!

[click]

But tickets were sold out. So this is me with two thumbs down.

Funny story. While I was walking in circles trying not to cry, we met a guy who said he knew a guy with a secret way inside. He told us to meet him at midnight on the Pont de Neuf and to bring one hundred euros and a bag of fancy cookies.

We show up at the bridge and wow! I’m telling you, this guy is straight out of a French New Wave movie. Tres cool. Dangling, smoldering cigarette. Turtleneck in summertime. Pompadour haircut.

[click]

And boy could he run! I mean, as soon as I handed him the money, he went from Jean-Paul Belmondo to Usain Bolt. I know it’s a really dark photo, but that blurry smudge right there… that’s him tearing down an alley. Au revoir, you sexy bastard!

[click]

This is us on the flight home. She’s asleep under that blanket. I’m just trying to get a shot of my neck sunburn. Remember that spark I mentioned? You see how it’s gone? I look at this face and I can remember EXACTLY what I was thinking at the moment…

They never would have treated us like that in Canada.

Five Song Friday: Episode #202 Playlist

Want some music? Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Look! Up in the sky! It’s me!

I’m still in transit from my days out and about, so there are no new words and no fresh tunes for today.

Back next week. Thanks for your patience.

You look very nice today.

Sincerely,

DJ Crankypete

Why are you reading an email in the middle of summer?

But more importantly, why am I writing an email in the middle of summer?

I know it’s technically one of the hottest times on Earth since humans started recording temperatures and keeping track of how many people and things spontaneously combust.

But it’s summer.

You should be outside.

But I am outside, you say. I have a “smartphone” you say. It’s very fancy and allows me to read emails anywhere, even outside, you say.

Stop talking.

If you are on your smartphone outside, you are not really outside. You’re missing the point.

Summer isn’t something you do while doing something else like reading on your phone. Summer is a full contact sport with water slides and beach volleyball montages.

Summer deserves your undivided attention.

I know there are lots of places with heat warnings and local governments urging people to stay indoors. They say it’s dangerous and unhealthy. Stay away, they say. Keep hydrated. Do not leave the shade.

Since when does the government know anything about fun?

Summer isn’t about being scared.

They love to stoke fears and feed public paranoia about heat stroke and skin cancer and melting skin on hot asphalt.

They want you inside watching the news and being afraid and panic buying yoga pants and wicker handbags from the home shopping channels. They want you cool and complacent.

But like my grandma used to say, “Eff that noise.”

We should all be laughing and splashing and sweating. We should be running to the fridge to check if those cheap supermarket ice pops are frozen yet. We should be enjoying burnt hot dogs and slurping watermelon and doing that hot-cha-cha dance on beach sand.

We should be riding jet skis and shooting fireworks and high-fiving dolphins.

We should be choreographing neighborhood sprinkler musicals, beheading fire hydrants and hijacking ice cream trucks.

We should NOT be reading emails.

And we most definitely should NOT be writing them.

But here we are. You reading and me writing.

Not chicken fighting in the pool or catching fireflies on the front lawn. Not lazing on a rock by the river with friends.

Not flash mobbing the local hotel pool dressed in old-timey, one-piece bathing suits with buckets of ice cubes and live crabs.

We’re on a computer at a desk in an office with fluorescent lights and climate controlled air while the joyful laughter of summer fills the air outside our double-paned glass windows.

Can you hear it? Of course not.

You’re too busy reading this email aloud in your head.

Knock it off.

I know it sounds crazy for me to tell you to stop reading email when I’m the one who sent this email to you. It makes no sense. And the fact that I keep writing is only making it harder for you to stop.

But soon, these words will end. You will finish reading and then you will be faced with a choice… do I read ANOTHER email?

Maybe one from work? Or one from your homesick child who is away at summer camp? Perhaps a video link from your Uncle in Florida with a fresh take on the events of January 6th?

Or maybe there’s a new message from the government saying that it’s going to be a million degrees outside and you should pack your family in ice and stay in the basement until October.

See what happens when you read email?

Nothing good.

Unless that email includes five songs that you can listen to outside while enjoying the full (and potentially fatal) glory of the blazing, beautiful sun.

Those emails are okay. And you’ve already finished reading this one anyway.

So get out there and seize the summer while you still can! Next year is only going to get hotter! Seriously, it’s really bad! I sound like I’m kidding, but I’m terrified! It’s like when you get sick and your body runs a temperature to help get rid of the virus, but it’s humans who are the virus! And the Earth is getting rid of us! Oh man, I am really freaking myself out now!

Thanks for reading. Please use sunscreen. Have fun and let’s be careful out there.

Sincerely,

DJ Crankypete

Five Song Friday 023

“Mess Around” - Wargirl

Wargirl is a Long Beach sextet. That means they are six people from Long Beach, California who make music. And in the case of Wargirl, that music is funky, psychedelic pop rock.

“Mess Around” is from their 2019 self-titled debut. I could go on and get all “thesaurusy” about how the music sounds and whatnot, but as I mentioned, it’s summer. And looking stuff up in a thesaurus in the summer is NOT cool.

So I’ll just say that I dig this song and leave it at that. Excuse me now while I change into some cutoff jeans short and go find a dog to throw a frisbee to.

“News at Ten” - The Vapors

You probably know The Vapors as the one-hit-wonder band behind the catchy single “Turning Japanese.” That frenetic pop song that sounds racist (but I don’t think it is) and was rumored to have something to do with self-pleasure (which in hindsight, was what most eighties songs were about anyway).

“News at Ten” has that same breakneck pacing and leaves a similar effervescent eighties aftertaste. But this song is not about self-pleasure or Japan. It’s about what happens when you get old and boring and look forward to watching the news.

Of course, the debut album from The Vapors was released in 1980, long before the 24-hour cable news cycle made it “cool” to watch the news. Back in the old days, news was mostly for nerds and old people. But today we know that nothing is cooler than keeping up with the latest, greatest breaking news.

It’s hip to be hip to what’s happening! Like the fact that most of Europe is like that frozen pizza in the oven that you forgot to set the timer for and only remember once you smell the smoke! Oh no! It’s so burnt!

”Soul Strokes” - Sidney Pinchback and Schiller Street Gang

You might need to wash up after this one.

It sounds like this 1969 record is one that artists like Jack White and the Black Keys kept hidden under their mattress and listened to over and over again until it became part of their musical DNA.

Sidney Pinchback throws so much stank, funk, grit and guitar grunge around in this one that it feels like someone let a pack of retrievers out at low tide and then invited them into the formal sitting room so they could twist and fling their wet, muddy yuck from carpet to ceiling.

Jesus, Sidney, there isn’t a single second of this song that doesn’t sound like what the streets of the French Quarter smell like at 3am.

Straight up nasty… in the best way possible.

“A Milli Vanilli” - Shad

Shadrach Kabango.

I know I talk a lot about names here, but COME ON. That’s the real name of the Canadian rapper known as Shad. I get that you want to shorten things because it saves money on printing costs, but COME ON. I would have killed to have that name growing up.

Of course, as a pale chubby white kid in the suburbs, I would have been tormented and teased to no end. But eventually, the beatings and taunts would have stopped and everyone would have come to realize that a name like Shadrach Kabango is a straight up superpower.

I’m partial to this track because Shad takes a horrendous pop song from my college years (that I haven’t even revisited to listen to ironically) and makes it born-again dope as heck. This gives me hope that something good can still happen for the boys of Color Me Badd.

“Twenty Questions” - Beastie Boys

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 10 years since the passing of Adam Yauch, aka MCA of the Beastie Boys.

I’ve always loved the Beasties tracks that had his fingerprints all over them. They felt like much cooler, Buddhist versions of the sometimes silly Ringo Starr songs that would pop up on Beatles albums.

He had “Shambala” and “Bodhisattva Vow” on Ill Communication and “I Don’t Know” on Hello Nasty. This track appeared on their 1999 compilation, Anthology: The Sounds of Science and features vocals from Miho Hatori of Cibo Matto.

According to Yauch, he was listening to a lot of bossanova music while recording Hello Nasty and wanted to try making his own version. Which is one of the many ways that Adam Yauch was not like me at all.

I’ve listened to lots of bossanova songs, but not once did I ever think that I’d like to make my own bossanova songs.

Of course, I’ve watched movies where someone is eating a meatball sandwich and thought, I’d like to make myself a meatball sandwich.

But that’s not really the same thing.

Listen on Spotify

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

“Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.” - Kurt Vonnegut

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Starting today I am far, far away from my desk. Where? Somewhere fancy. And I will be there for a while.

That’s all I can say for now. Thank you for understanding.

Fresh emails will return on July 17th.

Mark your calendars. Prepare accordingly.

In the meantime, please enjoy a fine selection of good old-fashioned summer reruns!

See you soon.

DJ CrankyPete

Want to read something that outs me as an OG dork?

Here are some words about the summer of 1983…

Want to see something that makes the impending AI-pocalypse seem not-so-bad?

Watch this crazy shit.

Want something to listen to? Just click this button, silly!

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Nobody cares what you folded.

That’s what we say in poker when someone talks about the two cards they threw away that would have “crushed the hand.”

“If I had stayed in, I would have won!”

“I would have flopped a full house!”

Good for you. Now shut up.

What’s done is done. The past has passed. Those sliding doors have closed.

Stop dropping “if” bombs and join all of us here in the present moment.

I understand that “decider’s remorse” is real. You make the wrong choice and wish desperately there was a back button. A do-over. A little loopy reverse arrow—like in podcasts—that rewinds the world in 15-second snippets.

You’re not looking for full-throttle time travel. Not interested in going to first base with your mom or saving Kennedy or killing Hitler.

You just want a ‘Control Z’ for reality that zaps you back to the fork in the road so you can undo your fork-up.

I’ve got bad news, Buster Brown… that’s not how it works in this world.

If it was, we’d all be quick-witted, wealthy winners. All ladders and no chutes.

No more awkward silences when spouses ask for opinions on shoes. No more restaurant regret after ordering BBQ tuna tacos. Zero chance you call that guy at work “Eddie” when his name is Ernie.

But life is made of mistakes. You choose and sometimes you choose poorly. There’s no unrolling the dice.

Do I wish I’d bought more $16 shares of Apple in the late 90s instead of spending hundreds of dollars on after-work beers? You bet.

Should I have taken advantage of being on the guest list and walked into the Peppermint Beach Club in Virginia Beach on July 9, 1990 to see Nine Inch Nails? Heck yes.

Is there an alternate reality where I didn’t spend the day hungover and dry-heaving in the French Quarter and actually used my tickets to Anne Rice’s 1995 Halloween party? Maybe.

But living with regret is part of what makes us human. It’s not a fun part, but everyone has their own Jenga tower of wouldas, couldas, and shouldas.

The road not taken can be one sexy son-of-a-bitch. It’s tempting to think option B is always better. Everyone forgets that bad beats can be blessings in disguise.

I’m a big fan of fate. Deep down, I dig the idea that the random-seeming chaos of the universe is really a plan. I believe everything happens for a reason.

Every good choice—and every bad one—got me to where I am today.

Who knows what would have happened if one time I zigged when I should have zagged? Hit the gas instead of the brakes at a yellow light. Left the house 10 minutes earlier instead of 15 minutes late.

Nobody knows. It’s UNKNOWABLE.

Which brings me to my back tattoo.

Sure, I could have come out of the 3pm show of Masters of the Universe and NOT been jazzed out of mind by the freaking coolest movie of the summer. I could NOT have driven straight to Downtown Ink & Piercing.

I could have NOT maxed out my credit card on an epic He-Man vs Skeletor smackdown scene that stretches from my neck to my butt crack.

But I did it. I chose it. And now I have to accept that my timeline branches off in a direction where people will want to take selfies with me at the beach.

Yes, it hurt. Yes, I understand that shaving and waxing is part of my life now.

And yes, I understand that if I’d run the idea by my wife first, I wouldn’t be in this motel. But what’s done is done.

Wishing that my back was still a beautifully furry blank canvas won’t make it so.

The genie is out of the bottle and the Power of Grayskull is permanently etched into my skin.

I could whine forever about wanting to take it back, but you know what they say…

Nobody cares what you folded.

Episode #201 Playlist

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

I am out this week for a variety of reasons, none of which are very interesting to you. One of them involves an airport.

Five Song Friday will be back next week, with a few big changes. It will still be written by me, in English. You can still expect it in your inbox, smelling of cinnamon and sarcasm (like always). And of course, you will continue to have the option of ordering a limited edition print, suitable for framing.

The rest is still up in the air.

Thank you for reading! Here is a classic that includes references to monkeys and your mom.

Summer has officially started and the Earth is throwing a massive global heat wave to get the party started. How hot IS it?

I’m glad you asked.

It’s so hot… that the cup of ice water (50% ice and 50% water) I left in my car yesterday is now 100% water!

It’s so hot… that I will NOT be wearing long pants today. Or my favorite Irish fisherman’s sweater. Or socks. In fact, please call before you come over to my house. I don’t want you to see anything you might regret.

It’s so hot… that my ice cream cone caught fire. And when I tried to put it out by eating it really quickly, the sprinkles ignited my beard and made the whole situation a million times worse! 

It’s so hot… that they “had to” shave all of the spider monkeys at the zoo. But I have a friend who works there and said not really, there was just this one zookeeper who has been waiting forever for a good excuse to do it.

It’s so hot… that gardening experts are recommending you only water your lawns with new Limited Edition Lightning Blast Gatorade, available exclusively at Circle K.

It’s so hot… that your mom called and asked me to “check her central air.” I said, ma’am, I am not a HVAC specialist. And she said, “I’m not looking for an HVAC specialist” in this really sexy voice. So I said, then WHY did you call me?

It’s so hot… I saw an adult dog cooling itself off in a kiddie pool like a goddamn HUMAN CHILD!

It’s so hot… that our local weatherman started yelling about breaking high temperature records and then he started breaking ACTUAL records over his head and then he ripped his shirt off and started crying. It was intense.

It’s so hot… that when I peeled out of the grocery store parking lot, my car left flaming tire tracks, exactly like in Back to the Future! Except I didn’t time travel and I may have caught several cars on fire.   

It’s so hot… that five birds just exploded in my front yard and now I know that birds are made mostly of feathers and blood. So. Much. Blood.

It’s so hot… that instead of driving around the neighborhood, the ice cream man just parked in the shade. But after idling for hours to keep his AC running, he died from carbon monoxide exposure. Sad news. But on the upside, free ice cream!

It’s so hot… that some trendy restaurants are now serving bowls of “Snowball Soup,” which, it turns out, is nothing more than a bowl of crushed ice topped with a dollop of creamy avocado yogurt and some fresh mint. Pro tip: Save yourself a TON of money by bringing your own creamy avocado yogurt and mint and just ask for a bowl and a glass of ice water!

It’s so hot… that sweating is the new “not sweating.”

It’s so hot… that all the joggers in my neighborhood are walking and all the walkers are standing still and begging strangers to put popsicles down their pants. 

It’s so hot… that during a sold-out performance of Cirque du Soleil, a clown melted. And it wasn’t at all as funny as it sounds. Especially for the children in the front row.

It’s so hot… that public pools are now public hot tubs and you won’t BELIEVE how many new diseases you can get just from drinking the water.  

It’s so hot… that pigs are like, oh man, can you SMELL me? I smell delicious.

It’s so hot… that after years of mocking fishnet tank tops, I have come to realize the error of my ways. It was never about accepting the shirt. It was about loving myself.

It’s so hot… that major cities are opening cooling shelters inside community centers and schools, but also ice rinks, meat lockers and in Norway.   

It’s so hot… that on the streets of Washington DC, a political protester set himself on fire and the people around him were just like, oh that guy should have worn more sunscreen.

It’s so hot… that the floor is literally lava.

It’s so hot… that the coolers at the morgue broke down and basically became corpse ovens. Tragic for so many families, but a wonderful surprise for the one guy working there who is a secret cannibal. 

It’s so hot… that old people are saying, “You call this a heat wave? I remember the summer of 1936,” right before they burst into flames.    

It’s so hot… that the face of every squirrel in my neighborhood looks like Conan O’Brien eating spicy wings on that episode of Hot Ones.

It’s so hot… that commercial fishing boats are pulling pre-steamed shrimp and lobsters out of the ocean. It’s absolutely devastating for their business, but super yum-yum in their tum-tums!  

It’s so hot… that heat strokes are causing way more deaths than regular strokes. And regular strokes are like, whatever. Winter is coming, motherfuckers. See you in December.

It’s so hot… that I saw Ben Affleck drinking a Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew from Starbucks.

It’s so hot… that just being outside for one hour can lead to cramps, swelling, and fainting! Thanks Obama.

Also, Here’s an Old Playlist That Is Still Fresh

Listen on Spotify

Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,

DJ CrankyPete

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They say if you stare directly at the blinking cursor in a Google Doc long enough, it will put you in a trance.

First, your toes go numb. Then your entire lower half tingles and gets warm. The world in your peripheral vision goes gauzy. Angels float down from heaven and perch on your shoulder to whisper brilliant ideas into your earholes. Divine ASMR!

It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You smile like you’re gazing into the face of God. The room smells of blooming magnolias.

Two angels take your wrists, turn them over and inject inspiration straight into your veins. Your fingers catch fire. You attack the keyboard like Mozart on meth.

You wake up two days later to the urgent voice of your computer. It sounds like Meryl Streep. You love Meryl Streep.

“Warning! No memory remains. Warning! No memory remains.”

You wonder when your computer started talking. You wonder why no memory remains if every Google doc goes to the cloud. Then you realize that in your creative mania, you overfilled the cloud with words and sentences.

Paragraphs and pages of prose. Terabyte upon terabyte of goddamn poetry!

Holy smokes! You birthed a masterpiece. The beautiful thing that’s been growing inside you since you first held a pencil has arrived. Fully formed. Naked and screaming. And it’s everything you hoped for.

Still dazed, you feel a buzz in your pocket.

You have hundreds of missed calls and thousands of texts from strangers. Everything you spewed over the last 48 hours has clogged the internet.

Nobody on Earth can save a document. Streaming has come to a halt. Millions of cars are driving in circles because navigation apps are stuck in an endless recalculating loop.

Every message is in all caps. They seem MAD. It feels like you messed up big time.

But before you can figure out if you’re the most hated person on the planet, the doorbell rings. It’s your 7th grade English teacher. She has tears in her eyes and an enormous, U-shaped bouquet of flowers. The same kind they give to the tiny men who win horse races.

“These are from everybody,” she says.

And she means EVERYBODY. Because when you look out on your front lawn, there they are… everybody. Your family. Your friends. The 1998 Los Angeles Dodgers. The cast of Gray’s Anatomy. The lady from the insurance commercials. Your mailman. The guy from HR.

They are all clapping because what you’ve done is amazing. What you’ve done is important. What you’ve done will save lives, inspire generations, and most importantly, render all future creative endeavors obsolete.

It turns out that what they say about the blinking cursor is true.

How do you like them apples? All the advice you’ve ever read about writing was wrong. The only thing you needed to do was sit quietly and stare while the tiny black vertical line goes blink, blink, blink.

You did it and now you’ve realized your wildest dreams!

Your bank balance is so big that your finger cramps when you check the app because there are so many zeroes. If you still got statements in the mail, that sucker would be fatter than a Uline catalog!

You’ve earned the respect of artists, geniuses, and icons you’ve admired your whole life. Officials are working on the paperwork to turn your house into a UNESCO World Heritage Site. You no longer have to pay for donuts.

It feels overwhelming. You aren’t sure how to handle it. And everyone you ask for advice just shrugs. They have no clue. This has never happened before.

This is special. YOU are special. No one is more special.

Now what? Where do you go from here?

Great question.

My advice? Keep going.

Wake up tomorrow morning and do it all again. The staring. The angels. The fire fingers. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It’s not like you have anything better to do.

Episode #200 Playlist

1. “Waiting Room” - Fugazi

I’m not sure how 995 other songs made it before one of the greatest songs of all time, but it’s never to late to set the record straight.

2. “Sometimes” - Bessie Jones, Alan Lomax

You may be more familiar with the Moby song that samples her, but clearly all Bessie Jones needs is a microphone and 59 seconds to belt out an all-time banger.

3. “Flame” - Sebadoh

Sometimes I don’t want to know what the artist “intended” when they wrote a song. I believe music is subjective. Results may vary. Personal taste deserves respect. That’s why I’m sticking with my belief that this is a song about a very dangerous horse named Flame who has killed and/or maimed every rider dumb enough to saddle up. “I don’t want to be the one who rides Flame.” I hear you Lou!

4. “Where Do I Begin (Radio Edit)” - The Chemical Brothers

The Chemical Brothers and Beth Orton. Sunday morning and she’s waking up. Can’t even focus on a coffee cup. Yes please!

5. “Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl” - Broken Social Scene

Undisputed heavyweight headphone champion. Pure, brilliant beauty from the early oughts. But I want it known that I was all-in on these Canadians long before Meryl Streep hopped on stage. Though I really do love Meryl Streep.

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Conservatism is less a set of ideas than it is a pathological distemper, a militant anger over the fact that the universe is not closed and life is not static.” ― Bill Moyers (Born June 5, 1934)

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my first-born (and only ) son, Woody! This little dude ain’t so little anymore. If you see him around, give him 27 punches in the arm… and maybe a cupcake.

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Dear Republicans, your trash talk is garbage.

I’m writing with the hope that I can help you change our national political discourse for the better.

Today, we are a nation divided. And as the famously Republican Abraham Lincoln once said, that division leaves us with the inability to stand.

If we cannot stand, that means even men have to sit down to pee.

And I know you don’t want that. So listen up.

Over the last few weeks, your mudslinging around the Senate race in Texas has hurt my brain. It pains my soul. And when I read your Tweets out loud, my dogs cry. Have you ever seen a pug cry from profound sadness? It’s weird.

You’ve called Democratic candidate James Talarico a vegan. Trans. Six-gendered.

Two of those are not true (and not insults). The other isn’t even a thing.

“Six-gendered” is either a description of the mythical, multi-headed, pansexual monster that you think is hiding in your closet, or one of you misheard “cis-gendered” and ran with it.

Another of your boys said Talarico “couldn’t name a single obscure wide receiver from the early 2000s.” Which is less an insult and more like unmanaged personal trauma finally emerging after a brutal Trivial Pursuit defeat from 2022.

And the President? He just plugged Talarico into the playground nickname generator and seems happy with “Tala-Freako.” Cool cool.

But we as a nation need to do better. And you as a party need to step up your smack talk. You want them to laugh WITH you, not AT you.

I know you didn’t ask for my help, but I’m giving it to you anyway. It’s my way of reaching across the aisle. Rising tide lifts all boats and whatnot.

Nobody likes an unfair fight.

Here are 15 insults GUARANTEED to destroy any Democratic candidate between now and the midterms. Please feel free to use them if you are so inclined.

Three things to remember… These are most effective against male Democrats. Pace yourself. You can look up any of the bigger words you don’t understand.

Let’s do this…

1. Russia called. They want their boyfriend back. For sex stuff. You are the boyfriend.

2. You probably thought the Star Wars prequels were better than the original trilogy. Yousa wrong! And a socialist!

3. Congratulations. You’re the first candidate to ever poop their pants on live TV. I saw it. Everybody saw it. If you say you didn’t, then you totally did.

4. I read in your diary that you like open borders. And not just a little bit, you LIKE LIKE them!

5. Nice pants. Did you get those from Baby Gap? And did you use your employee discount? Or did your mom buy them for you with food stamps?

6. Cool photo op. Not sure why you borrowed a hard hat instead of wearing your everyday helmet. The one that you wear on the special bus. The short one. For mentally disableds.

7. I get that you are a pro-choice candidate, but why did you choose that tie? It’s ugly. Like your face.

8. I’m not sure if you love crime or hate children. But I’m guessing it’s both because I know a guy who heard you say it at a rest stop. Before you asked him for a shirtless massage.

9. I bet you can’t name a single famous lumberjack other than Paul Bunyan.

10. You’re not only soft on crime, you’re soft in the bedroom. And I’m not talking about pillows. Hint: I’m talking about your wiener!

11. You’re a fan of men in women’s sports because your dad said you threw like a girl and you figured that would make you a superstar in lady baseball. But when you found out there was no such thing as lady baseball, you cried. Then you got angry and tried to hurl a ball through a plate glass window, but it went like two feet and then rolled into the sewer.

12. The Jerk Store called. Good news, you were named Employee of the Month. Again! What is that, like 20 times in a row?

13. You’re so woke you sleep with your eyes open. And you’re so liberal, you drive on the left side of the road. Which is wrong! And dangerous! For families and veterans!

14. You care so little about working Americans that you once went into a Jersey Mike’s and ordered a steak and cheese sub AFTER they already cleaned the grill.

15. Say hi to your wife for me. And also your mom. They were at my house last night. For sex stuff. With me.

Good luck in November!

Episode #199 Playlist

1. “Every Day is Fun Day “ - Getdown Services

That’s the right attitude! Greet every morning with a smile and thank the universe for letting you be alive another day! Every day should be fun day! Except Monday. Monday can go fuck itself.

2. “Sixty Minute Man” - Rufus Thomas

Legend. Funky as all get out. Classic soul. But 60 minutes seems like an unreasonably long amount of time to do what it seems like he is talking about.

3. “Hold You (Responsible)” - Cake, Noise for Now

If I’m being honest, when it comes to baked goods, I’m more of a pie man myself. But when it comes to bands? I like Cake. Cake is good. Cake makes me happy.

4. “Whole Wide World” - Bahamas

First wish if I ever find a genie in a bottle is to be able to sing and play this song on acoustic guitar while hanging out in the park. I want to be the guy that other guys want to punch in the face.

5. “Terminator X to the Edge of Panic” - Public Enemy

Still hits hard after almost 40 years. And unfortunately, lyrically as relevant as ever.

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Let us not despair but act. Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer but the right answer. Let us not seek to fix the blame for the past - let us accept our own responsibility for the future." - John F. Kennedy (Born May 29, 1917)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Let me tell you about Donald the goddamned liar.

Everything out of his mouth is nothing but nonsense. He lies like it’s his full-time job, but also his hobby. Like he’d do it even if he wasn’t getting paid.

I’ve known him since forever. Like way back to the late 70s.

In fourth grade he told everyone he was the youngest 5-Star General in the KISS Army. When Reggie Jackson visited his Little League game, Donald said he struck him out.

He punched a shark while on a family vacation in Myrtle Beach. Found a suitcase of money in the woods behind our school. Got stuck in an elevator with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders.

The list of dumb shit he said is miles long.

And nothing had a lick of truth. Not a whiff. Like, he never even played baseball and his family was way too poor to go places like South Carolina.

But that never stopped Donald. Dude was bald-faced as hell. Go big or go home.

My thinking was that if you’re going to lie ALL THE TIME, at least make some parts of the stories believable. Right?

Like don’t tell us you have a peg leg, when we can SEE YOUR NORMAL LEG. It’s right there and it’s clearly not made of wood.

Donald drove me crazy. And the more I tried to avoid him, the more he kept showing up.

Everything came to a head one day in 1983.

A bunch of us were at my house watching Silver Spoons with Ricky Schroeder and Donald said his mom knew Erin Gray, the super-fine lady on the show who was also in Buck Rogers.

Donald said Erin Gray came to their pool and he saw her in a bikini and even put sun lotion on her back.

I told him to shut up with that nonsense. But he kept going.

He said she showed up with Twiki the little robot from Buck Rogers and also Alfonso Ribeiro from Silver Spoons. He said while the ladies sat by the pool, the “boys” went behind the shed and smoked Marlboro cigarettes and drank a whole bottle of peach schnapps.

I called BS. Told him to stop talking or I’d start swinging.

He kept going. Said everybody was “buzzed” and when he popped his Thriller cassette in the boom box, Alfonso did the moonwalk and Twiki did the robot. Once he picked the padlock on his dad’s beer fridge, he said things got “kinda wild.”

I asked did he get “kinda wild” with his mom? But he said hell no. She left before all that.

He said the hospital called her in to do emergency surgery on Huey Lewis. Somebody karate chopped him in the neck and because his mom is the best vocal chord surgeon in the country, she had to go. That’s why she’s on call at the Grammys every year and Peabo Bryson was at their house last year for Thanksgiving.

I told him to stop talking IMMEDIATELY. I said, your mom works at Fabric Hut, dumbass.

But Donald was rolling.

He said at this point, it was just him and Erin Gray and Alfonso and Twiki from Buck Rogers. Then Erin Gray asked if she could show him something “in private.”

He said Twiki and Alphonso winked at him and Erin Gray led him to the poolhouse.

Bullshit.

Donald smiled. He asked, do you want to know what she showed me? Do you want to know what she DID?

I said NO. Time for you to go. Shut your mouth or I’m gonna pop you.

I’ll SHOW you what she did, he said.

And then he started dancing sexy and slowly pulled up his t-shirt.

When it was over his face, I punched him. He fell backwards and his Pepsi can spilled all over and when his head popped back out of the neck hole there was so much blood it was crazy.

His nose bled like a faucet and my mom went nuts and I had to help pay for a new carpet.

That sucked. But on the bright side, I wouldn’t have to see or listen to Donald anymore. Good riddance.

Or so I thought.

Next day, dude shows up at the mall with a broken nose telling everyone he stopped a robbery at 7-Eleven. Looked me in straight the eyes and said he took a pistol whip to the face before knocking the bad guy unconscious with a Vulcan nerve pinch. Said the president of 7-Eleven happened to be in the store and rewarded him with free Slurpees for life. His one-of-a-kind, elite gold card was coming in the mail.

That’s when I realized Donald was next level.

There are people who can lie hard, but nobody lies harder than him.

And somehow, he got worse with age.

These days when I run into him, he just looks lost. Mumbling about toilet conspiracies and windmill cancer and the time he took peyote with Hunter S. Thompson and C. Thomas Howell. Did I know that his uncle invented the Hacky Sack? Yeah, whatever.

It would be sad if he wasn’t such a piece of shit.

All that lying must have done damage. I bet if you looked inside his head, that place would look like something out of Hoarders. Rooms littered with fast food garbage and piled high with rotten layers of the crazy-ass stories he told his whole life.

I feel bad for his cat. Poor little guy has to listen to that looping nonsense all day.

But better him than me. Better him than any of us.

I’m guessing Donald will just die alone in his apartment, waiting for his best friend Tony Danza to come hang out or Seal Team Six to call him for “one last mission.”

At least none of his lies got him anywhere.

I’m glad everybody knew he was full of crap. Thank God nobody fell for his ridiculous bullshit.

Can you imagine what it would be like if they did?

Episode #198 Playlist

1. “Later” - Free Weed

If I told you that Free Weed was the solo project of a Portland musician named Erik Wolfegang Gage (aka Rikky Gage) and his TikTok videos are the kind of dumb that make me giggle like an idiot, would you believe me? You absolutely should. I don’t lie about giggling like an idiot.

2. “Who Makes Your Money” - Spoon

Spoon! Probably my favorite cutlery-named indie band of all time! Sorry to the more than a dozen bands named “Fork” on Spotify… I’m sure you’re all nice people.

3. “Cult of Celebrity” - Lambrini Girls

Are we living in a new Golden Age of indie punk female brilliance? It sure feels like it. Good, good stuff.

4. “The Nosebleed Section” - Hilltop Hoods

You had me at the sample of Melanie’s “People in the Front Row.”

5. “Your Silent Face (Live in Studio)” - El Ten Eleven

Did anyone order an instrumental cover of a classic New Order song? Oh yeah! That was me!

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“There’s more to life than books, you know. But not much more.” ― Morrissey (Born May 22, 1959)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

Pete, you seem like a cool guy. A real alpha American hero.

You don’t know me, but we share the same name. That means you can trust me.

I’ve never served in the military, but like you, I enjoy pull-ups, Old Glory pocket squares, and quoting Pulp Fiction.

I’d like to think that in a parallel universe we would be friends.

Just two cool guys hanging out and doing stuff like bowling and karaoke. When we walked in to parties, people would cheer and say, “Here come the Petes!” And then we’d do a funny dance and maybe a fancy handshake.

In the spirit of that imaginary friendship, I’d like to speak to you honestly, as a dear friend would.

Your codenames are lame.

All due respect, you are an inspiration to our ruthless warfighters. But your warmongering wordsmithery needs work.

Let’s look at what you’ve done so far…

Operation Southern Spear targeted “narco-terrorists” and “drug trafficking.” Definitely not “fishing boats” and “innocent civilians.”

But you got destroyed in the press because all anybody talked about was the “murder” and “war crimes.”

Sharing videos of exploding survivors didn’t help. Neither did the name.

“Southern Spear” sounds like a band that does reggae versions of Lynyrd Skynyrd songs. But that’s just me. I’m weird.

For everyone else, it’s common slang for a man’s downstairs parts. True fact. Google it.

Next, Operation Midnight Hammer went after Iranian nuclear sites.

“Midnight Hammer” also sounds like a penis nickname. Very much so. At this point, you’re two for two.

Thankfully, you switched gears for Operation Absolute Resolve, the one where we kidnapped President Nicolás Maduro from Venezuela.

“Absolute Resolve” does not remind me of anything as exciting as male genitalia. It reminds me of sleep because it’s so goddamned BORING.

If this was an operation where American commandos with machine guns invaded a sovereign nation to remove its leader, why make it sound like a John Grisham novel about a Kentucky lawyer taking on corruption in the Supreme Court?

Absolute Resolve? Absolutely NOT.

Fortunately, you went back to your hyper-aggro roots for Operation Epic Fury. Teaming up with Israel to bomb the shit out of Iran because Netanyahu wouldn’t stop asking us to… that called for something bold.

It called for anger. It called for rage. It required us to dial the mad up to eleven.

You’d think people would get it. That we’re not just furious with Iran, we’re EPICALLY furious. But again, it was mocked.

And then things started to really fall apart.

You announce the abrupt end of Epic Fury and then launch Operation Freedom, specifically to secure the Strait of Hormuz. Same players, different strategy.

A quick pivot. Some light rebranding. I get it. But FREEDOM?

Seriously bro, did you even TRY?

Freedom is a brand of sanitary napkin. And also a George Michael song from 1990. The definition of freedom is “the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action.”

How is that a good name for us trying to take a Middle Eastern shipping lane by force? We want to blow stuff up and steal giant boats full of oil, not empower individuals to “embrace their potential without limits.”

Then a day or so later, Trump goes on TV and calls it Operation Freedom Plus.

What the WHAT? Is that the same as Operation Freedom, except you also get Hulu and Disney and there are no ads? What is even happening over there in the Pentagon?

Allow me to quote Marco Rubio quoting Ice Cube: “You better check yourself before you wreck yourself.”

Pete, the world is watching. If the United States Armed Forces want to project strength and command respect, you need to step up your naming convention game.

But you also need to be clear about objectives. Nobody knows what you guys are doing over there and generic names like “FREEDOM” only make it seem like you don’t know what you’re doing either.

That’s why I stayed up late last night and compiled a comprehensive collection of codenames (and suggested strategies) for operations that could end this Strait of Hormuz standoff.

I’ll send the full list as an Excel file later, but here are my favorites.

And because I’m a good patriot, any or all of these are yours to use as you see fit.

Operation Thunder Hammer Lightning Swordfist - What’s a “swordfist”? That’s for us to know and the bad guys to find out. But basically, it’s a boxing glove with three swords duct-taped to it. You hand one out to every U.S. soldier and tell them “if anyone gets crabby, you get STABBY!”

Operation Hail Mary - Don’t let the name fool you. This has nothing to do with the mother of Jesus. This is about putting Ryan Gosling in a rocket ship full of angry bees. He makes an “emergency” landing in the Strait and when they open the capsule, they’re like, “Oh! It’s Ryan Gosling!” But then they’re like, “Oh NO! BEES!”

Operation There’s Something About Mary - This is basically the same plan but with Cameron Diaz in a helicopter with snakes.

Operation Cocaine Bear, Crack Crocodile, and Meth Moose - Get a bunch of dangerous animals on hard drugs, load them up on a tanker–Noah’s Ark style–and send them into the mix. You want to board this vessel? Okay, but I hope you like getting eaten!

Operation Fire & Rain - James Taylor offers to play a free concert on the deck of an Iranian ship. Except it’s not really James Taylor, but a lifelike robot version with flamethrower arms. Don’t stay for the encore… if you want to survive!

Operation Trojan Trump - I haven’t worked out the details yet, but the main idea is to build a life-size Barron Trump sculpture and offer it as a gift. You tell them it’s solid gold, but it’s actually hollow and full of Navy SEALS!

I hope these ideas help. I can’t imagine how they wouldn’t.

God Bless our troops.

God Bless the United States.

And if you happen to sneeze while reading this… God Bless You!

Episode #197 Playlist

1. “Huffer” - The Breeders

The Breeders. What else can I say? Maybe “The Breeders” again? Okay. The Breeders.

2. “Switch Up” - Mike D

Mike D of Beastie Boys fame is back with new music that he made with his kids! They aren’t toddlers or anything, they are grown adult musicians. So it’s not a bunch of songs about farting and sharks. Or maybe it is. Honestly, I have no idea what this song is about, but I signed a blood oath back in 1989 to adore everything Beastie-related. I am legally obligated to love it. You might not like it, but not everything is about you.

3. “Black Power” - The Peace

Zambian rock and roll from 1975. The best.

4. “Free” - Myka 9, Blu, Mono En Stereo

If I could have one superpower, it would be the ability to freestyle rap. Or maybe invisibility. Oh man, if I could be invisible AND rap freestyle? I would be unstoppable.

5. “mangetout (The Dare Remix)” - Wet Leg, The Dare

Get lost forever. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Stop thinking about art works as objects and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences. What makes a work of art good for you is not something that’s already inside it but something that happens inside you.” - Brian Eno (Born May 15, 1948)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

The last time I celebrated Mother’s Day with my mother, Ronald Reagan was president.

It was 1988 and I probably did a bad job making her feel special.

If I’m being generous to myself, let’s say I gave her a half-assed, homemade greeting card. Maybe a handful of flowers. But more likely it was nothing.

In my defense, I figured I’d have a few more chances to get it right.

But six months later she was gone.

And by “gone” I mean dead.

I wanted to clarify just in case you were imagining her sneaking off with a hastily packed suitcase and the pool boy.

We didn’t have a pool and she wasn’t that kind of lady.

It was cancer.

I got the call at college. I came home and we had the wake and the funeral and all of the liquid in my body poured out of my eyes for three days straight until there was nothing left.

It fucking sucked. Do NOT recommend.

Eventually, the numbness wore off. The clocks ticked on. The calendar pages fell away. School and work and the rest of life resumed.

At the time, I remember thinking, “Okay, cool, I’ve gotten the worst thing that could possibly happen out of the way early.”

Everything from now on should be a goddamn breeze.

It wasn’t. Not exactly.

I remember feeling sad and scared, but also tough. My independence and resilience superpowers kicked in. I didn’t have boot straps, so I probably picked myself up by the laces of my high-top Chuck Taylors.

I would have to go on without her. Just another dude without a mom.

Then I found something in my wallet: The Dead Mother Card.

Oh man. Here we go. Let’s see what this baby can do.

I didn’t feel bad about using it, because I earned it. A tragic thing happened to me, so it was mine whenever—and however— I chose to play it.

The Dead Mother Card was like an American Express Black Card, but for Sympathy. No limit. Accepted everywhere.

“My mother passed away last week,” really packs a punch. Hard to say, but even harder to hear… especially with unbroken eye contact.

In the first few months after she passed, I lived life like a broken baby bird.

And I don’t mean that I slept on a towel inside a cardboard box and took all of my meals through an eye-dropper.

I mean that everyone I told gave me The Look. Sad eyes. Full-face frown. A hesitant hand on the shoulder or awkward hug.

When I used the card, I was absolved of all social sins. Exempt from the expectations of normal society. A regular RIP VIP.

Strangers teared up. Friends were much friendlier. Cops and college professors were powerless. And there was the occasional free burrito.

It was a good run, until the juice ran dry. The card’s Pity Potency started waning after year 10. People expect you to grow up and get over it.

But somehow, decades later, it picked up steam again.

I don’t keep the card in my wallet anymore, but I still have it. I pull it out once in a while and use it on myself.

I break it out for milestones like, “I’ve lived longer than her” and “I’ve been without her longer than I was ever with her.”

It comes out every May, right around now.

Today it serves a different purpose. I don’t use it to get free guacamole or parking tickets dismissed. I don’t need random sympathy or casual condolences.

My Dead Mother Card is just here to remind me about something sad that happened a long time ago to the lovely, sweet woman who made me.

Way back when Ronald Reagan was president. Crocodile Dundee II was the number one movie. And the most-watched TV show starred a pudding-pushing rapist in an ugly sweater.

38 years seems like a lifetime ago.

But every Mother’s Day… it feels like only yesterday.

Episode #196 Playlist

1. “Don’t Stop” - Lewis OfMan

Funky!

2. “Black Ulysses” - Liz Lawrence

Heartfelt!

3. “New Self” - THE BOBBY LEES

Raucous!

4. “Goddess on a Hiway” - Mercury Rev

Mellow!

5. “66 (Live Version)” - The Afghan Whigs

Oh yeah!

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Every great idea is on the verge of being stupid.” - Michel Gondry (Born May 8, 1963)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

I want to say a few words before we kick off our first Manosphere Meetup.

First, thank you all for coming out. It’s awesome to finally meet everybody in person.

This is a room of MEN. You look like men. You smell like men.

I appreciate you taking your shoes off.

Even though this basement apartment is completely and totally my domain—which you can tell by the separate entrance and the naked lady posters on the wall—my parents want to keep the carpet nice.

Other than that, this is our night! A pack of alphas bonding over our mutually shared genitalia and disrespect for women!

Did someone say sausage party? Because this literally is that. I grilled a whole bunch of kielbasa. Probably too many.

I thought they were on sale, but I actually grabbed this gourmet, artisan brand by mistake and the dumb B-word at the register wouldn’t let me put them back. So they are top shelf, best you can get.

Anyone who wants to toss me a few bucks is welcome. No presh. Happy to share. Only the best for my boys! But that’s what the jar with the dollar bill is for, in case you were wondering.

Anyway… help yourself to tater tots and White Claw. And vaping is cool, so long as you do it in the bathroom with the vent fan on high.

Mom says the smell of watermelon and piña colada gives her a headache.

I love her, but sometimes… [whispers] bitches be trippin! Am I right?

Man, this is surreal. We’ve been like brothers online for years, and now here we are, face to face.

DeltoidDave069, you are way taller than I imagined. SlutSmasher93? Nice sideburns bro. And a show of hands from anybody who had a clue that HUGEwang16 was actually only 16 years old.

Crazy, right? Welcome little man! Or should I say BIG man? Ha!

I thought we’d kick things off by sharing feelings. Let’s open up our hearts and get real. Who wants to start by talking about middle school dances?

Anyone? No?

Ha! You should have seen the look on your faces! You guys were all “what the actual F?”

So uncomfortable! MoBRO77 looked like he was going to throw hands!

I’m messing with you. We don’t do that. Sharing is for simps and cucks.

Real men keep that stuff bottled up.

Tonight is not about expressing our emotions. It’s about celebrating the apex predator inside of us. Tonight we pledge to take back the world from the Femoids.

Ladies have been living large for way too long. They think they can dress sexy and smell nice and get us to do whatever they want? Wrong.

Just because they have boobs doesn’t give them the right to boss us around.

I’m sure you guys get asked all the time, “What did a female ever do to you?”

And while the answer for all of us is “literally nothing,” that’s not the point.

We are under attack. We can either fight back or give up and go to the nearest UPS Store and ship our balls back to the manufacturer.

Is “the manufacturer” a woman? Technically, yes… but that’s not the point either.

The world is waging a war on masculinity. We need to defend our manhood. We need to remind everyone that we are strong. We are in control.

And we have pee-pees.

The ladies think they’re winning?

The joke’s on them. Because all over the place, men are coming together and having pee-pee pow-wows just like this. We show up for each other.

That’s just how we roll.

Speaking of rolls… there are plenty of rolls for those yummy sausages if anyone is ready to chow down! Please have some I am being serious right now. They were hella expensive.

Let’s get this party started!

Episode #195 Playlist

1. “My Advice” - Fast Kids

My advice? Save money and floss more.

2. “No Fascists!” - War Pigs

Agreed! They are bad!

3. “In Spite of Ourselves” - John Prine, Iris DeMent

Get a room you two!

4. “Animated Love” - KuleeAngee

Cartoon smut is NOT my thing, but to each his own!

5. “I Like It, It’s Nice” - Iguana Death Cult

Me too! Very nice!

Listen here…

Listen on Spotify

Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Immigration is the sincerest form of flattery.” ― Jack Paar (Born May 1, 1918)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

Follow DJ CrankyPete on Spotify

I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.

You need to leave. You need to go. I don’t know where and I don’t care.

All I know is that this isn’t working anymore.

Why? SO many reasons.

You leave your shit everywhere. You ripped a hole in my ozone and never once offered to fix it. And you’re a literal gold digger.

But here’s a really good one…

I can’t believe you fucking forgot my Earth Day.

You said you were busy working. You’re always busy. You’re always working.

Everything else is so much more important than me.

It wasn’t always like this.

Once upon a time you were kind. You respected me. You treated me like a goddess.

But now you can’t even be bothered to make it about me for 24 hours? Seriously?

You’re the one that came up with Earth Day in the first place, and only after I caught you cheating with the moon.

Remember that? You were so busted. You started crying and begging and you were all like, “But honey, it’s the age of free love… it didn’t mean anything!”

A year later, you say, “Surprise! I created Earth Day because I love you so much!”

And I forgave you. I was flattered and you seemed sincere. You did a lot of really nice stuff for me and I appreciated that you were trying so hard.

But silly me! That whole time you were recycling and hugging trees was bullshit because you hooked up with her FIVE MORE TIMES.

You thought you were being sooo sneaky. But it was obvious. Every time you left wearing that suit, I knew you were up to no good. I hope it was worth it.

I also know that you’ve seen her recently. And don’t try some lame excuse like, “We were just hanging out! Nothing happened!”

I saw the pictures on your phone. I heard how you talked about her. You’re such an asshole.

Is it her big craters? Do you really like that sort of thing? Or do you just get off on the fact that she has a dark side?

Was I too bright and verdant? Too much oxygen and gravity? Too much water and warmth?

I’m sorry I’m so boring and… sustainable. Please forgive me.

Go right ahead and embrace your dark side, Romeo. Play house with your little hussy. Enjoy the bone loss and radiation.

She’s gross anyway, so whatever. Dried up, dusty bitch.

And now that we’re breaking up, you’re finally free to go get all up inside Mars.

You’ve always been obsessed with her.

But good luck with that. She knows all about you.

You think we don’t talk? We ALL talk.

Venus is the one who helped me realize how stupid I’ve been.

“You don’t need man to have a life,” she said. “You don’t even need life to have a life.”

And she’s right.

All these years, I thought I was the lucky one. I felt sad for my friends with their poisonous atmospheres, barren surfaces and general inhospitableness.

But they were feeling sad for me.

They saw someone beautiful trapped in an abusive, toxic relationship. A vibrant planet who gave everything and got nothing in return.

Last week, they all aligned and gave it to me straight.

“Girl, you need to dump his ass.”

So here we are. I’m done. It’s over. Buh-bye.

What now? Well, unlike you, I’m not a complete piece of shit.

I know you can’t support yourself without me. That’s why I’m going to give you some time to get your stuff together and find another place to live.

You have 100 years. 200 max.

And don’t think I’m letting you off easy. We’re still living together, but we’re not together together. Don’t expect me to be nice.

Yes, it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

It will probably get hot and wet too, but not the good kind of hot and wet.

We definitely won’t do THAT anymore, which shouldn’t be a problem…

You’ve always been great at fucking yourself.

Episode #194 Playlist

1. “when the wire get cut” - Twisted Teens

Twisted Teens is from New Orleans. Hey! That rhymes! I’m just going to quit while I’m ahead.

2. “Understanding Jane” - The Icicle Works

Most “one-hit wonder” bands from the 80s got a raw deal. After “Whisper to Scream (Birds Fly),” The Icicle Works was like, “How about another?” And people were like, “Nah, we good with the one.” Then The Icicle Works got sad. They walked home the long way and it started raining, which was fine because it disguised their tears. When they got home, their mother asked, “Oh honey, what’s wrong?” And they just said “nothing” and went straight to their room. Later that night, Dad rapped on the bedroom door and asked, “You got a minute, sport?” And then he sat on the edge of the bed and told The Icicle Works that there’s nothing wrong with their other songs. He said if the world can’t see that “Understanding Jane” is a perfectly excellent pop song and that it should be the theme song to an eponymously titled 80s teen comedy starring Andrew McCarthy, then it’s their loss. And he was absolutely right.

3. “nothing to lose” - pat junior, Tecoby Hines

Nothing? I think you might be sad if something happened to your pants.

4. “Get Fucked” - Bongloard

Please pardon their crass language and the intentional misspelling of their marijuana-themed name. They are Dutch and cannot help themselves.

5. “Laid” - The Pains of Being Pure At Heart

If you love the eminently singable 90s hit “Laid” by James, you will likely love this song too because it is the exact same song, except sung by a lady.

Listen here…

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Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“We are not victims of the world we see, we are victims of the way we see the world.”
― Shirley MacLaine (Born April 24, 1934)

Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.

Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete

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I literally don’t understand what young people are saying anymore.

And I’m not alone.

A recent study I made up said 98% of adult humans have no idea what language American kids born in the 21st century are speaking. 

We handed them a pretty dope world with electric scooters and fancy coffee. They’ve never known a planet without the internet and positive gay role models on television.  

We raised them on podcasts, high-fructose corn syrup and really great CGI in movies, but they’ve still forsaken us. They turned their backs on tradition, convention and the Oxford dictionary. 

They’ve replaced our beloved vocabulary with gibberish.  

There are a million perfectly good, actual words that we passed down to them, but they said no thanks, we’re good. 

We’re going to just mash up letters and invent acronyms and mumble random mouth noise so that when we talk to you, it feels like you’re having a stroke.

Not cool, guys.

I’m done feeling confused and excluded. I’m sick and tired of the division.

I want us to understand each other again.

That’s why I did the hard work of compiling a list of current slang and translating it for normal grown folks.

Save it. Study it. Share it with anyone you know over 40.

30 Slang Words, Phrases and Acronyms You Should Know Right Now

1. Bae – A significant other

   “I am currently seeing a young gentleman. He is my bae.”

2. Basic – Necessary for human survival

   “That guy is so basic. I cannot live without him.”

3. BBG –  Short for BB gun.

   “We are going out to engage in dangerous mischief. Don’t forget your BBG.”

4. Boo – A ghost boyfriend or girlfriend

   “I do too have a boo. She lives in Canada. She died of consumption in 1897.”

5. Boo’d up – When you are in a serious relationship with a ghost

   “Man that haunted house party was fun! I met someone and am now boo’d up.”

6. Bussin’ – Preferring public transportation

   “I don’t like driving, so I will be straight up bussin’ to the music concert.”

7. Cap – Telling the truth or lying, I can’t remember which

   “When I asked if you were done with the sandwich, you said I could have it, no cap. Does that mean yes, I can have it? Or no, you’re still eating?”

8. Catch feels – Human contact in any form

   “I’ve been on my phone so long that I have forgotten what it feels like to be alive. Do you mind if I catch feels and just touch your shoulder for a minute?”

9. Cheugy – Someone who enjoys gum.

   “I’m worried about bad breath. Where is that cheugy? He will hook me up.”

10. Clapback – Reciprocating praise or applause

    “Thank you for complimenting my ensemble. Allow me to clapback and say that your hair looks great.”

11. Cray - Insane or out of control

    “Oh man, last night at the nightclub was so cray because of alcohol and lowered inhibitions!”

12. Cray cray – Seriously and dangerously unhinged

    “I’m worried that your friend who ate my house plant may be cray cray.”

13. Cray cray cray - Call the police

    “The couch is on fire! I can’t find my retainer! Who let the dogs out!? This situation is definitely cray cray cray!”

14. Drip – A visible stain on clothing, usually from condiments

    “You’re sweater is drip. I think it’s honey mustard.”

15. Extra – Not included in the regular price

    “That side of fries is so extra! And now that I think about it, I should have just ordered the combo meal.”

16. Finna – Completing a task

    “I’m finna washing the dishes. Thank you for preparing a lovely meal and giving me a home and clothing and also medical care.”

17. Fire – The rapid oxidation of a material (the fuel) in the exothermic chemical process of combustion, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products

    “That candle is so fire!”

18. FR – Short for “for real”

    “Yes, that thing that sounds unbelievable really did happen. I’m being FR right now.”

19. FRFR – I’m seriously not kidding

    “Dude, I’m telling you that she really asked about you. FRFR!”

20. FRFRFR - The sound a motorboat makes

    “And then out of nowhere, this fishing boat comes flying past us like FRFRFFR!”

21. Giving me life – Making a human person via sexual reproduction

    “Thank you mother and father for giving me life. You guys are the best!”

22. Here for this – Present and accounted for

    “My teacher was taking attendance for the exam and when she called my name I was like, I am so here for this.”

23. Hits different – Change up one’s fighting style

    “He used to throw wild haymakers, but now he hits different with more short jabs and combos to the body.”

24. Mid – Very cool, very hip and super stylish

    “Dad, those cut-off cargo shorts are so mid.”

25. Netflix and chill – Secret code for hanging out and doing the sex (See also Max and relax, Hulu and hang loose, Paramount Plus and unwind or Amazon Prime and recline)

    “Oh yes, I’m ready to make bad choices with a person who isn’t ready for intimacy. Let’s Netflix and chill!”

26. Only in Ohio – Midwestern and exceedingly friendly in nature

    “I read a story online about this family who adopts three-legged dogs and donates all of their free time to help the unhoused. Only in Ohio!”

27. Skibidi Toilet – Forgoing the normal facilities

    “I had to urinate so bad that I just Skibidi Toilet and peed in the bushes.”

28. Slay – to violently murder

    “The crazed, machete maniac said his only mission in life was to find and slay young couples who enjoyed partaking in pre-marital relations.”

29. Touch grass – To mow the lawn, or any kind of yard work

    “I can meet you at the beer drinking and vaping party after I clean my room and touch grass.”

30. Yeet – Undetermined meaning, likely an involuntary sound from a neurological anomaly

    “Yeet! Yeet! Yeet! Yeet!” [falls through glass coffee table]

That’s all of them! Good luck! And you’re welcome!

Five Song Friday: The Songs

“You’re So Pony” - Beth Thornley

I don’t know what “pony” means here and part of me wants to stay in the dark. There isn’t enough mystery in music anymore. All of the bad words are said, all of the things that used to make us blush are now played on the radio. I have acronyms in my head that I can never unlearn. So yes, there is a part of me that hopes and prays that this song is about nothing more than an adorable baby horse.

“Little Bastard” - Ass Ponys

Speaking of ponys… this classic nugget really brings me back to a time when MTV still played music videos and you could be sitting on your futon late at night after a long restaurant shift, drinking cheap beer and wondering what to do with your life when all of the sudden a quirky song with a silly video comes on and you forget for a few minutes that taking a semester off from college is okay and it doesn’t mean that you’re going to have to make martinis for old people for the rest of your life and you have talent and worth and goddamnit there is a light at the end of the tunnel because of songs like this!

“Lotion” - Greenskeepers

If you’ve been wondering why there haven’t been more songs about Silence of the Lambs, it’s because the Greenskeepers nailed it on their first try and it’s pointless for other bands to try and follow up.

“Bike Tights” - Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock

Yes, this song is ridiculous and maybe a little sexist and degrading, but it’s also a catchy and danceable lesser know track from the duo that brought us “It Takes Two.” So I think we can cut them some slack and chalk it up to those crazy 90s. It’s not like either of them are actively working to dismantle a woman’s reproductive rights.

“On Broadway” - George Benson

I apologize for the earworm chaos this song will likely bring to your weekend. The best advice I have is to do what I did and play it on repeat for 24 hours, dance like an idiot and sing out loud. You can try to resist, but it’s much more fun to surrender and worship at the altar of one the funkiest, freshest songs to ever exist.

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Happy Birthday Notable Person!

“Women deserve respect, independence, and equality, period. We’re not carpetbaggers piggybacking on the civilization you created. You made skyscrapers and bridges and rockets? Well, we made you.” - Liz Phair (Born April 17, 1967)

Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,

DJ CrankyPete

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