Update from the house of filth.

I have been out of the public eye for a while now and haven't talked to or seen many people good goddamn time. I assure you all I am alive and well. Or at least still alive. Anything else is just an argument of opinion.
I am sitting right now in the house of filth also know as my apartment. It has been developing original smells for months now and is finally settled on the scent of complete despair and regret. Its odor actually forces an emotional reaction out of those who experience it, usually a reevaluation of the smellers life and an immediate hatred of whoever could have created it. It is a fragrance that seems alive, independent with its own set of goals and values, and lingers like a dull sweat on anyone foolish enough to come in contact with it. A scent that would terrify Charles Manson. I have been trying to figure out a way to bottle it and sell it to goth kids as a cologne but all attempts so far have met with failure. It resists. Willfully.
And anyone who thinks it might just be the week old Burger King tacos I found one the table this morning is wrong. I threw those in the dumpster this morning and the smell hasn't subsided. It seems almost smug.
But time waits for no man and there is more in life than the smell of your home. However repugnant it might be.
So what has been going on? Brittany has gone the way of Dr. Evil and Anna Nicole has died. An exciting time for all those deep into the soulless pop-culture for this country. Even the inmates in the asylum are beginning to question the wisdom of their revolt. The wolves don't even enjoy butchering the sheep anymore.
And if you are quiet enough on a cold Texas night you can still hear the sound of Twinkie soaked weeping coming from trailer parks throughout this fair land. The passing of their sugar gobbling, pill popping queen Anna from her mortal coil has been a jarring experience for them. Only slightly less jarring than living in a trailer part to begin with. It is a dark time. The only hope offered to those poor afflicted folks is that Arby's appears to be sticking with it's five for five policy.
It's the little things that keep us all going.
So the mourning for the Trim spa queen continues. Anna, an idol to woman everywhere who don't want to actually get a job to become rich. A goddess to the hopelessly uneducated masses of young girls who find math distasteful but find the concept of spreading their legs apart for emaciated half-dead men with money in the bank and death clutching their heart perfectly agreeable. She was the patron saint of the small town whore. She sold double-wide dreams.
America loves a whore. Especially a dead one.
But make no mistake about it....she earned her fucking money. To whore herself out to such a cadaverous old mongrel takes a certain strength and a can-do attitude. I would have been hard pressed to do a better job. And would have looked nowhere as good in the lingerie. And the old crow knew what the score was...why do you think he spent all of his life making money? It sure as hell wasn't to leave it to his bratty badger minded children. He wanted to see beauty in his last hours. If possible wearing as little as it could. It was a legal exchange. A modern day beauty and the beast.
On her best days they say Anna Nicole looked like the modern incarnation of Marilyn Monroe.
On her worst she seemed like the illegitimate love child of Elmer Fudd and a manatee that drank during pregnancy.
Meanwhile, here at the house of filth, it is 2:00 P.M. on a Tuesday and I am already getting drunk. My hair has become so unruly that a German scientist would rush to the barber with disgust. And my ash tray fills with cigarette butts at a speed that would make the busiest VFW take note. It makes one thank god for the little things.
Like masturbation.
And naps.
And mall pet stores, which are like the poor kid's zoo. Full of little starving traumatized puppies.
And that guy who does the voice for Whataburger commercials. I don't know what is about his voice, but it makes me feel good. And hungry.
And so it goes....just like it always has..........as starving children look up to the heavens for solace.....