November 23, 2003
Big Welcome to Sensible Erection Readers

Traffic jumped yesterday when someone posted a link to us on sensibleerection.com. I don't understand all the lingo - trolling, modding, etc., but it seems like a fun place to chat and blog and be community. In any case, a big greasy welcome to all Sensible Erection people - enjoy the Daily Mingus. If you're looking for an interesting online read, poke around here or check out this article about a drunken moose alert in Norway. I'm not kidding.

For regular readers who are waiting desperately for news of yesterday's meeting with Colette, I'm still trying to get it straight in my head. Suppressed heat is probably the best way to describe it. We had a very long conversation about writers and poets and passions between them. She wants something out of Mingus, and Mingus wants something out of her. This was pretty clear when we were parting ways, because there was no kissing or embracing, but we stood closer than a man and an engaged woman should stand and sort of nuzzled and shared breath and I looked her in the eye and demonstrated more restraint than I've shown in fifteen years of getting bitches wet and made it very clear that I wanted to see her again very soon. She looked tormented and disturbed and she could only whisper, but she said that she would like that very much.

This is all going to end in disaster, I'm sure.

November 22, 2003
The Classic and the Fantasy

The big deal's coming around. Just had a long meeting with the designers and a few other people involved in the publishing co. and they've almost all signed up. Of course, if everyone signs up and this thing goes, I'm on the hook to work like a motherfucker over the next year to get this book to market. LOTS of work, and I'm a bit scared, but publication is what I wanted, so I'm really hoping it goes through. Still, it reminds me of an old Hemingway quote I've converted into my own personal maxim.

Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.
-- Ernest Hemingway

And I always do what I said I'd do, but it still hasn't taught me to shut the fuck up.

The meeting with Colette happens this afternoon. I am suitably nervous, but I feel good about what I can say, and if I think that she's looking for more than just a conversation about Camus, I'm ready to throw down. The situation helps - she didn't want to spend an afternoon in a sports bar watching The Heritage Classic, and her fiancee did. I did too, it's the biggest day in a dozen years for any fan of The Oil, but I am throwing it away for a shot at this. I now know something about myself; a crack at a woman that might add up to all things that I want is worth more than the best hockey game ever. IE., hockey in hand is not worth a shot at the bush.

My only fear about this meeting is that I may have overcompensated for this woman, that I may have built her into something that she is not, and that I may come away disappointed. It happens all the time in the pre-relationship fantasy, where every dream girl's pussy tastes like dill pickle chips, she fucks like Barbarella and she likes to stay up all night and write and take rum and blowjob breaks and she weeps when she comes. I thought Chloe would be like that, and the only thing that still tastes the same as the dream is her pneumatic ass and her need to get drunk at funerals. The rest is aging on me.

So I'm sure Colette won't fulfill all those dreams, and she'll have bad breath in the morning like everyone else, but I have hope. Cause she's a writer. And writers, real writers, have heat packed into them, even if it's buried down under miles of hard plates of obsidian glass. It's there, and you drill down, and the heat comes rolling out. And that's what I want. Give me your heat woman, and I'll give you mine.


November 21, 2003
The American Donkey Punch

News today: the rocket attack on the Iraq Oil Ministry was made from the back of the donkey in this photo, originally posted on the MSNBC site.

At this point, the donkey has been arrested and shipped to Guantanamo Bay where he is being held as an enemy combatant, and has been denied access to legal counsel.

Wolfowitz said of the detainee, "This terrorist has been captured and is being held for interrogation. If we feel that he is responsible for this war crime, he will be tried for such at a military tribunal and any judgement against him would result in a capital sentence. Early interrogation is not definitive at this point, as we are having some
difficulties attaining a written confession."

The method of execution the donkey would face is unclear at this point, for he would not fit a standard electric chair. Whether another method of execution would be considered inhumane, and therefore inadmissable, is a clouded legal issue, as the terrorist is not considered to be human. Prosecution would likely push for the method of execution clinically referred to as a donkey punch.

Wolfowitz added, "If the donkey is guilty, he will pay the ultimate price. The United States will not stand to be pushed around by thugs and assassins, particularly ass assassins."

When asked if PETA would have any influence over the rulings, Wolfowitz refused comment.

November 20, 2003
Pa was a Nazi, but He Wain't no Pomosexual

A brain on a stick at 12stone pointed this one out. Looks like Bush's grandpa was a Nazi sympathizer. Fuck, I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!!!

Right. Well, that one needs no explanation.

In unrelated news, one of our celebrity readers recently wrote in about the phenomenon of egosurfing. I have to admit that I didn't know what egosurfing was, which disturbed me, as I like to think I have my finger firmly planted in the anus of all things new and important. In fact, I thought this word was probably something that the reader made up. Unfortunately, I was wrong for the second time in less than two weeks, and I was properly schooled by the reader and WordSpy. Egosurfing is a real word. At least for this decade.

Egosurfing is: the act of scouring the Internet's archives and search engines for mentions of your own name or your business name.

So now I am forced to agree that this is probably a real word, a real phenomenon and it really defines something I do on an hourly basis.

But who makes these words up? And who decides which of these words stays in the English language? When, good lord, did 'bootylicious' get into the Oxford English dictionary? And how do I get 'nunt' in there?

Intrigued by what wordspy had to offer, I took a look at the top hundred words trying to push their way into our lexicon. I found such wonders as metrosexual, pomosexual, hasbian and celesbian. None of these particularly bothered me, cause I'm cool with whatever people like to do in their spare time, but then I came across a new phrase that really dug into my flesh. They called it 'The Stendahl Syndrome'.

Some Italian medical researcher has attempted to pervert the name of Stendahl to identify a minor psychosis that occurs when people are overwhelmed by Italian art. To this I say fuck you. If you are going to take anything from Stendahl, it should have something to do with his master stroke of a character, Julian Sorel. Sorel pulled the wool over rich people's eyes, lied like a motherfucker, fucked like crazy, lived a life of profound and intentional hypocrisy, fought his way towards power and shot his mistress in the middle of a packed church on a Sunday morning. Stendahl wrote the first real psychological novel, The Scarlet and the Black, which is the equal to, and even the precursor to the writing that Dostoyevsky ended up cranking out. If Stendahl's name is synonymous with anything, it should be the psychological novel or the use of hypocrisy as a principle. Yet this name is to become associated with American tourists who get strokes from Florentine paintings?

Fuck you, my dear Romans. You do not fuck with Stendahl like that. Eat my shit you asinine, turducken, pomosexual Italian medical researchers. You do not fuck with Stendahl.

I repeat, you do not fuck with Stendahl.

And that's all I have to say about that. On a related topic, I smiled nicely at Chloe this morning as she ate her breakfast when all I really wanted to do was kick her the fuck out of my freezing basement apartment, ask Colette to move in, and carry on as though nothing had happened.


November 19, 2003
That Doesn't Make US Nazis

Trying to quit barking about American imperialism is like trying to quit smoking. How can one stop, when material like this just keeps popping up? Apparently, the hip, new 'Operation Iron Hammer' title was first used by the Nazis in WWII. I mean, I've compared the US politicalmilitary machine to the Nazi regime before, but this is just sitting there like John the Baptist's head on a silver platter. Nice work, fellahs.

In other news, Colette and I have rescheduled for a cup of coffee this weekend. Works well for me, cause Chloe has an all-day rehearsal for some avante-garde chunk of crap about a man dressed in red who stands at a podium and talks about his feelings. The feelings join him on stage and interact. I believe that Chloe is playing 'Misery', and I refuse to comment on whether or not I think she would excel in such a role.

Colette asked me to bring 'my latest work' along for the meet and greet, so I guess I'll haul Nunt down and watch her eyes roll back in her head when she reads the immortal lines:

trying to suppress a little grin
and show my supposed guilt

for fucking an epileptic
and coming during her seizure

Of course, if she thinks that's funny, I'm really in trouble.

November 18, 2003
Maybe I Was Wrong, and Maybe I Don't Own the Internet, but I'm Still Making Bitches Wet and I'm Trying to Make Friends with Our New Prime-Minister

Looks like it was local Turks that blew up the synagogue in Istanbul. Careful Nuntonians will note that Mingus boldly predicted that it would not be a local who fucked that shit up. In the interests of separating myself from rhetoric mongers who never admit to being inaccurate, I will now admit that my prediction was not fully realized.

Now, to be fair, I would like George Bush to admit that invading Iraq to prevent the world from being incinerated by a WMD division that couldn't have given Mrs. Cheney a bad case of herpes was a bit misguided. Sigh.

Enough about American politics for now. I realize that I spend far too much time fixating on these things for a Canadian. This came into focus the other day when the Assman asked what I thought of the Canadian political scene. I blinked and frowned. I knew Paul Martin was recently crowned our new leader, but there was little else I could add. Further introspection revealed that I knew we had moved to decriminalize weed, legalize gay marriages and we were going to uphold the Kyoto accord; mostly because Chretien said so during his final lap around the field. I know we're in parliamentary recess, but frankly, I don't know enough about Paul Martin and what the fuck he's going to do when he gets his hands on the horse. But I'm gonna find out.

All I know at this point (and this is truly strange) is that Paul's got a blog. If he keeps it up after he's been elected, we may be the first country in the world with a leader who keeps his own regularly updated blog. Fucking EH CANADA!!!

In order to introduce him to our online community, I just sent him an email that read:

Hi Paul.
I noticed that you have a blog - nice work!! In the blog community it is common to exchange links on blogs, and I would like to offer a link exchange. Please let me know if you are interested. My blog is called the Daily Mingus, and it is located at www.nunt.com.
Thanks, and good luck running the country!!!

So, we'll just have to wait and see what he says. Maybe we'll have a nice little link exchange. For the record, if you don't think I really sent that email, you are wrong.

November 17, 2003
It's So Wonderful, This Internet

For those who missed it, I am the new king of the internet. Go to afrochic.net and marvel at the Nov. 14 entry. And then bow down.

In related news, I have learned, in my newfound thrust at commerce and incorporation, how to utilize E-bay for my own malevolent purposes. See my first and most exciting acquisition. Its purchase was inspired by a reader who thought that perhaps Mingus needed to be more outlandish. I find that I can never take my eye off the critical edge, and so it is that we move forward.

Another bizarre fact has been confirmed. An overwhelming amount of my quickly rising traffic is coming from pre-pubescent lads searching for naked photos of dear, young, pristine Keira Knightley, the star of Bend it Like Beckham and Pirates of the Caribbean. For those who have just arrived here looking for such a thing, all I can do is point you to imdb.com. It's not as though i know her, and if I did, I wouldn't be shilling her private parts on the internet.

That is, I wouldn't shill them unless the bitch done me wrong. The moment she did, you would soon find ninety minute segments of a well-lit, 24P HD film-series aptly entitled 'Bend it Like Keira' . Each edition would be available exclusively online for the low, low price of US$29.95 . Mingus would star prominently, along with his shaved chimpanzee and an anally-obsessed baboon named Fo Pung whose only purpose seemed to be spraying the entire set with a foul mixture of baby oil, scotch and his own semen. The plot would follow the classic themes of the loss of innocence, man versus beast, and gorilla versus baboon. Those watching carefully would note that Mingus paid loving homage to Kurosawa's Rashomon. Particularly during the sword fights.

Ah, to be young and rich and depraved.

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