Just got stabbed in neck by Barbie


My daughter just gave me a hug from Barbie a second ago.  Unfortunately Barbie has some hard plastic limbs and she inadvertently stabbed me in the neck.  There is quite a lot of blood pouring out of my carotid artery as I type.  Hopefully I can stem the flow a little bit, buying me at least enough time to write a proper entry here.  Its been a minute.  Its hard as fuck to concentrate on this shit though because my same three year old kid is sitting here asking me if the socks that she just picked up off of the floor are from Frozen.  She is also asking me if I can find her shoes.  She is also going through all of the drawers of clothes that I just put away yesterday when I cleaned up this fucking nightmare room.  Her purpose in tearing through the drawers is ostensibly to find proper attire for Barbie.  You see, we are getting ready to go to the store together to find buy some Pullups because she is still having issues with potty training and can’t really be trusted to be completely diaper free just yet.  Her biggest issue seems to be not taking a shit in her panties everyday.  Luckily for me the shits she is taking are pretty firm in consistency and don’t really cause that much of a mess which is a good thing.  It kind of keeps my sanity intact for one more day if you know what  I mean.  If you know what I mean really then I feel sorry for you because nobody should ever really have to relate with my nutty life.  Now I have the adorable little child standing next to me going through my little sketch pad and asking me about every single thing that I have ever drawn in there and asking me who each person is.  The problem is she is not satisfied with answers like, “oh its a little man” or “its a little doggie”.  Then she wants me to draw an itsy bitsy spider for her.  She loves that little itsy bitsy fucking spider so much that I have to draw her another one.  Now I’m starting to lose my focus if you know what I mean.  Of course! We just fucking went through that whole thing I forgot.  I’m ignoring her so she is getting more desperate for my attention, telling me that she needs to go into the shower, which she just got out of.  I ignore that so she starts pushing me and saying daddy a few dozen different ways.  Stone face so she starts really pushing me and calling me by my Christian name which happens to be Anthony.

I forgot I was even writing this.  Its like 4 hours later and we went to Walmart together (Daddy and Daughter) and got boisterous for a little while.  We were both just amazed at “how cute” every single product that had a tie into the Frozen movie was.  That’s what Audrey said literally about every single thing she recognized from that blasted movie that fucking Walmart had stocked on their shelves, in special displays all over the fucking store, next to the elevators, escalators, entrances and exits, restrooms, dressing rooms you name it. I actually was amazed…she just thought each thing was so cute and of course she wanted one of everything in the store.  She was cracking me up so I did get her a couple of things and using my mind manipulation techniques I was even able to convince her that her Pampers Pull Ups were a special treat.  What we settled on for her were a pair of shoes with lighted heels and special pics of Frozen princesses Elsa and Anna.  I was considering shoplifting the fucking things to see if I still had it but ultimately decided to leave well enough alone and even though the shoes were safely on baby girl’s feet and the upc price tag safely ensconced in the box containing my new mma hand wraps, when I was paying at the register I made a point out of making sure that the semi attractive cashier (Debbie I think) rang the shoes up.  They were $15.87 by the way.  We also got her a mini basketball which she picked out.  It was neck and neck between  the mini basketball and oddly enough a football (no soccer but football like the NFL football).  She had never previously shown any interest in or knowledge of the fact that football even existed prior to tonight as far as I know so I was kinda tripping on the interest in the football to begin with.

In case you were really fascinated by our shopping trip and you want to know what I purchased for myself, too fucking bad.  The only reason I am still working on this article is because I am getting ready to go running in a few minutes but first I need my piece of shit phone to charge up enough that I can listen to my fucking Spotify punk rock motivational crap and have my Runtastic app remain open on and running for my entire run so I don’t get cheated out of mileage and times like always happens because something stupid like not having a properly charged phone battery rears up hisses and fucks up my mojo for that day.  It never fails to happen when I am on a personal best pace on a day with heavy mileage being run, a day I would be able to use as bragging evidence via a screen shot that I use whenever some body that is not dead and also knows me but hasn’t spoken to me for one reason or another for six months invariably gets to chatting and asks me the innocuous sounding “so what have you been up to”? and I use that as my opening to bore the tears out of another apathetic winner from my past, present, or future.   Anyways yeah not having a fully charged phone can really come back to bite a guy in the ass in these circumstances.

I’m wearing a really homosexual looking Adidas athletic suit thing right now which is not very flattering especially with the pooch belly I still have even after running 1,367 miles since October 6th of last year.  I think it might even be unwashed in fact I’m pretty sure it is.  And its not mine.  I found it in the barn at my cousins house in Los Angeles and I’m reasonably certain that it belonged to my cousin Dayna’s soon to be ex husband.  He is a cross fit guru allegedly ranked number two in the USA at one point.  Anyways my cousin John gave me permission to keep the ugly stinky article of clothing and the funny thing is I don’t think he really had/has the authority to be giving away another man’s homosexually slanted gay pirate muscle suit thing.  But he did.  And I accepted it because I wanted it and I really don’t know why.  Maybe I enjoy dressing like a gay.  I’m pretty sure I do in certain aspects but that’s not a subject to get into right now.

I’m well aware that I am coming across as a mental defective and I’m really not one I don’t think but I have to admit being somewhat enamored with the whole stream of consciousness that can come pouring out of my fingertips almost without even trying at certain times.  Real talk for a second and I just made this mental connection that the reason for my sauciness tonight is that I have been power watching past episodes of Shameless on Netflix and Showtime on Demand for the past few days and if you watch Shameless you know that basically every character is larger than life, smartasstic horny drug taking hedonist sado masochistic and kind of bad overall yet they fascinate me.  Lip is especially cool and I want to fuck Fiona badly.

In case anyone cared or didn’t know I have relocated out of the Temecula Elsinore Casino Meth Capitalistic Inland Empire Bro Prison White Trash Desperado Probation Parole Headquarters to the lovely confines of Los Angeles which has all of that and more but is infinitely more interesting, diverse, busy and I have to think educated in a certain way that is part money and culture but also street smart mixed with school smart mixed with mostly transplanted out of towners from all over the world melting pot with history and millions of stories waiting to be wrenched from the surroundings where they lie.  Temecula in particular has nowhere near the historical appeal of someplace like Hollywood and I would be lying if I didn’t admit to being very happy that I am out here.  I don’t have any sort of permanent thing going on here but I am working towards having something that makes sense to a higher percentage of those with their crazy lives somewhat in control.

Hopefully it will all work out for me and little Audrey out here near Tinseltown.  Who knows maybe I can get her a part in some sitcom or some shit.  She is a little charming actress fake crier extraodinaire already so we shall see.  Along those lines, Ed Harris and his wife (I think) are filming some kind of something at the property where I currently reside.  I’m not going to be more specific than the greater Los Angeles Area and its not because I don’t want any of you to know where I am  but out of respect for the people who are nice enough to let my daughter and myself sleep here temporarily.  Its nice to have a bloody roof over my head and to know my daughter is safe.

I’ve lost my focus here obviously so I am going to cut this post now and if you are lucky I may just publish it in the next five minutes so one or two of you can read along and send some good vibes and thoughts my way.  Any girls that want to fuck, I’m down as of right now.  Private message me and I will give you my cell  phone number. If I have a girlfriend down the road shortly and she is reading this let me take a quick moment to apologize.  I’m sorry honey (whoever you are) I’m just lonely and often really horny. So yeah.  I have gotten with a few very hot little mamas since arriving in Los Angeles. I’m not going to out them on this forum but trust me we are talking about some primo female flesh.  Just counting my blessings.

Steve Jacobson, Josh Erlenmeyer, Elijah Brown, Kris Cass, Steve Bultsma and others have promised to meet up with me out here in Los Angeles and thus far have not made the attempt.  I can understand why for Steve and Elijah who both think I will be an over the top distraction for important women in their lives.  Josh will eventually get in touch and Kris Cass and Stevie will too.  Faith in humanity and faith in friends.  You gotta have that shit if you are going to have a happy life.  I gotta go running now.  I have four miles of warm ups and warm downs with 8 sprints of a half mile thrown in the middle.  45 seconds of rest after each sprint is not nearly enough so I really gotta go motherfuckers.

Thank God (that’s what you are probably muttering to yourself under your breath if you made it this far)

I dedicate this post to the memory of Charles McEldowney.  I love you Charlie.  Hopefully I can hump your girl Mia too.  That would be lovely. 

Liza Rowe and Nikki Knightly are fine ass ladiesHollywood-Sign-Wallpaper

 

 

 

beware the wrath of /b/ 4chan/b/ versus @flyguyparsons


Screen shot taken from the twitter account of Aaron Jacob Parsons

Its been an interesting day in Cyberspace.  A perfect storm of sorts has come together and unleashed her fury on  krashthrills.wordpress.com in the form of thousands and thousands of views of an article I wrote regarding Aaron Jacob Fosters yesterday.  As of 7:01 p.m. tonight I have had 6,938 people from 11 countries visit my website and read what I wrote. There 3,583 clicks of links that I provided that contain more information/corroboration of the crimes that are proven alleged by what I have written, all of which originated on the /b/ forum on 4chan.org.  I want to take this opportunity to give props to the guys and girls who reside at /b/.  They might be a little warped but collectively they hold a great deal of power in their fingertips.  It was awesome to be a witness to this power as it unfolded.  Awesome as in I was awestruck and still am.  Certainly it is not a good idea to get on the bad side of a group that has this kind of power at its disposal.  Even worse to do it when they are bored and frothing at the bit for something to do.

It seems a bit of a foregone conclusion that the consequences are going to be severe and swift for the individuals responsible for the degrading beat down and robbery of the still unnamed victim in this case.  I feel absolutely no sympathy for the perpetrators.  I don’t give a shit what they have to say about it or what their excuse is or if they even remember what they were doing because of intoxication levels , temporary amnesia etc.  I really hope that prison is the end result for Aaron Jacob Parsons and everyone else involved, especially that annoying drunk bitch wearing her black panties parading around the street like she was some glamour queen.  Fuck her.  (man she STILL pisses me off)

The haters calling me racist can all suck it to be honest.  I am not even going to bother addressing that accusation.  It’s not true and my life and anything I’ve ever written in the past will attest to that FACT.  So, hate on haters.

I got a call from a reporter named Justin from the Baltimore Sun.  We talked for quite a few minutes about the origin of this situation, 4chan’s /b/ forum and more.  His view, stated to me anyhow, was that this is an instance of the internet being used for good and he was quick to show his admiration for the detective work done by the /b/ forum lurkers.  I agree wholeheartedly with this sentiment.  Choosing to fight against the “forces that /b/ is the ultimate example of the idiot who brings a knife to a gun fight”.

Have a good night everyone……Anthony Mandich

ImageADDENDUM: I replied to an email from the reporter I mentioned.  Here is what I had to say.  And I quote:

hey justin it was good talking to you.  i’m sending you this stuff before i even blog it so i must think you’re cool.  just don’t get me killed lol.

 
here is a quote from me if you want
 
“aaron jacob parsons is a wanted man”….post after post on /b/ repeated those words. it was late i was annoyed.  the arrogance shown by @flyguyparsons and @CASHton-Kutcher by posting the video of themselves proudly separating a man from his dignity really angered me.  they acted like it was so funny and so cool.
 
to beat down a guy like that, seemingly with impunity when: 
 
(A) he didn’t deserve it  and 
(B) couldn’t do anything about it but bleed and sit there bewildered, humiliated and alone and 
(C) further add to his pain by taking everything of value in his possession, stripping him naked, and letting some ugly drunk annoying bitch slap him open palmed across his face while he’s on his back  just didn’t sit well with me.
 
and the poor guy took it like a champ.  he didn’t defend himself (which was probably smart in this instance because this was a bear that you had to play dead against for sure.  so yeah he didn’t defend himself but he also didn’t bring further dishonor to himself by crying, pissing or moaning.  
 
two things resonated strongly with me.
 
1. the images of parsons mugging for the camera before the humiliation began and then creeping up and start digging through the guys pockets like it was a big joke.  i really hated that.
2.  that ugly chick wearing her panties with her big old ass all drunk grinding on the guy before it all started and then when he was down on his back she’s there standing behind his head and starts slapping in his face HARD and he can’t even see where these blows are coming from because she is standing behind his head.  that was particularly cowardly and thinking about it right now gets my blood boiling.  
 
you asked me what was different about this video as opposed to the many other millions of videos that are out there on the internet.  I am going to answer that with a post i did on some girls from a sorority at bowling green who were tragically killed in a car accident a few weeks ago.  my answer is obvious.
 

Fucking Horny.


 

got such a yearning for some completely ethereal woman goddess to  come steal my soul and force me to worship her.  its like this ache that is more than sexual.  i mean obviously although i have tried to talk to myself into believing that one of the many girls from my past was meant to be my destiny none of them actually were.  that makes me super sad in a way but also really relieved and happy in a way too.  maybe it was all my fault in each and every doomed relationship but so be it man.  whatever the case may have been i was obviously not content enough to conform to the unspoken boundaries that i know and they knew i was confined to. no matter what the reason was for my deliberate hard headed stubborn  way of living the bottom line remains the same.

my destiny woman, if she even exists which i doubt, but i hope, will be a woman who i can throw my whole being into and  who i never have to even care if we are at home or out living in the forest by ourselves or in a big city because she so fully captivates me and i her that the rest of the world ceases to exist in any meaningful way.  the one.  everybody talks about the one.  do they even know what they are saying what they are hoping for what they are dreaming about.

i have had wondrous nights of incredible leave this planet kind of lust filled sexual frenzy tongue in mouth until lips are chapped can’t get enough of her or her of me.  hundreds of those nights with probably a hundred girls.  why couldn’t i sustain that zest that passion that look at her always and be horny in my heart and in my pants?

just give me my soulmate make it clear to me that she is my soulmate and let me fend for myself with her.  i don’t want riches i don’t want fame (well yeah i do unless i get her) just give me the woman of my dreams who is searching for the man of her dreams and when she dreams she sees my face and touches my lips and i hers.  give her to me while i still have time to enjoy her.  i want to experience that great love that rare as fuck love the kind that you don’t talk about cuz its so fucking amazing you don’t even have time to brag or boast all you have time to do is stare at her and miss her when she is gone its not an obsession but you can’t live (happily) without being by her side where a weekend away is pretty traumatic.

i will trade it all for her.

woman if you are out there look for anthony mandich and find him before it is too late.  universe if it is someone i know now let me know.

Sociopath School Shooter Salad:


Sociopath School Shooter Salad:

First you take deviant teenagers with hormonal imbalances and an inflated sense of self importance that borders on narcissism.

Toss in their desperate need to seek out attention whether it be positive or negative, a warped sense of unjustified entitlement in a world that refuses to go along for the ride.

Mix with a pathetic built in excuse from their upbringing (sexual abuse, bullying, lack of affection, poverty…whatever).

Sprinkle example (Columbine) after example (Virginia Tech) after example (University of Texas) after example (Westside Middle School) of those that have paved the deranged way for these impulsive little sociopaths.

The little bastards probably beat off to pictures of Dylan Klebold dressed in black with a pool of blood surrounding his ugly head while Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” plays over and over ad infinitum.

The focus of the media and all of her sycophantic followers (of which group I freely admit belonging to) is on the sensational and shocking thrill killing of the day week month etc.  The antihero perpetrators of these terrible deeds are made immediately infamous.

Remember that need for attention I pointed out above?  Infamy is attention.  There is a gratifying payoff in the form of the surrounding hoopla and intense, (albeit temporary)  microscopic scrutiny to which we subject these doomed children of a lost generation to after they commit these senseless crimes, and it is apparently a sufficient trade off for their lives.

The bright light is focused on these losers in an effort to answer the unanswerable question (WHAT COULD WE HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?)

Sad that in this day and age, 15 minutes of infamy is more then enough to provide these former nobodies all the evidence they need to believe that they have made their mark and will go down in history.

Apparently no one these days sees the forest through the trees.  The outlook for mankind as a whole is not the brightest in my opinion.

Is anyone else sick to death of this shit?  There is no end in sight.  Its really all a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy if you ask me.  Kind of a psycho salad.

Image

WHY YOU SO GAY TONY


i just asked batchelder to give me a quote to name my blog post for the day and the best she could come up with is “why you so gay tony”.  whatever.  it works for me.  so i haven’t been blogging lately even though i have been up to so much no good it’s insane but i haven’t even been close to a computer except to do work for my boss tom.  so much shit has been going down i feel lucky to be alive and in one piece.  drugs complete scandalous sexual liaisons with so many girls all of them crazy hustler chicks who work over dudes on a regular basis but have met their match with me who works over chicks on a regular basis so we all sort of even each other out.  i can’t even give you all the names of the chicks because some of them are wanted by the law.  this one girl who i have really been seeing quite a lot of is super hot as fuck and really smart but really gangsta as hell and way into really bad drugs.  Met her at a casino in the inland empire.  She is the only one that I have been with more then twice. i also have met two chicks from hemet at the same casino and had sex with one and just cuddled with the other one.  Again not naming names cuz these chicks are sorta like skinhead chicks and they run with a bunch of crazy white power dudes.  I’ve met like three of the dudes and they seem cool and all but there is always that element of danger around them and actually around the girls as well.  I met a half Mexican half white gang banger chick at the same casino and we had a pretty insane adventure that involved me skateboarding at like 4:30 in the morning to the casino gas station to put five bucks gas in this chicks car so her and her three homies could make it home to Beaumont or banning or Yucaipa I’m not sure which one but definitely one of those three.  Anyways I have no record for any kind of drug related offenses and I’m not on parole or probation so I still presumably have my 4th amendment rights which on this night came in pretty handy.  I was bombing this rad little hill that leads directly into the gas station showing off for this sexy little mama whose name I will say which is heather.  Truly the only reason I was doing this was because for some unknown reason the gas station although physically open was literally closed for ten minutes according to the clerk.  So while we waited I skated.  Makes sense to me.  Well this one cop who had said hi to me like ten hours before while he was patrolling through the casino garage parking lot in his black and white followed me down the hill on my third attempt as I was skating over to this heather chick sitting in the car we were putting gas in.  long story short the cop said he was surprised to see someone skating at this time of the morning which I didn’t give a shit about what he was saying because I wasn’t holding anything illegal and like I said I still have my rights.  I was totally unconcerned even when he asked me if he could peek at my drivers license.  I gladly gave it to him but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that heather was cringing and looking pretty unhappy.  Turns out she had been busted for drugs and a bunch of other shit in 2007 and had been to prison and stuff and so she had search terms which basically for all you laymen means that the cops can tear up all your shit looking for contraband without having any reason whatsoever except that they want to.  This cop was totally cool with me and with heather actually.  But even though they didn’t even search me and basically relegated me to the sidelines where I skated for the next hour, they definitely searched heather and the car she was driving which wasn’t hers.  They found a bunch of checkbooks in the car that one of the homies had come across somehow I have no idea about any of that part of the story since I had just met this chick and we were just flirting and shit in the casino.  Anyways it was Christmas eve so they eventually let her go but it was pretty close to her being hauled off to jail.  Just goes to show you that its pretty important to keep a clean record if you can because it helps when dealing with law enforcement officials.  I never got to stick my dick in that heather chick I think she was  a little jaded about my skating being responsible for her getting hassled by the man but fuck it she is one of many.  And in fact a couple of days after Christmas I met this other heather chick at another casino this time in palm springs and I won’t even tell you the details of what happened but put it this way I met her at 7 pm and I was sticking my cock in her by 8:30 pm and that is no lie and she was a hot little bitch in fact I stuck it in her again on the day after new years so there you go.  Well this is just a little tiny smidgen of an update on whats going on with Anthony mandich hero to the degenerates.  Oh yeah one more thing props to this website I started checking out last night called the dreamin demon.  They have stories of so many fucking assholes who hurt kill destroy and spread their evil around indiscriminately every single day that it makes me feel a lot better about myself.  Man, people are really fucked up motherfuckers.

pius heinz wins wsop main event


After starting the final table as a short stack this bluffing machine from Germany, heinz caught fire at the right time. he entered Tuesday nights 3 handed finale with the chip lead and promptly saw Ben Lamb spew off the majority of his stack on the first hand with an ill timed all in bet holding king jack off which was called by Martin stazko. Stazkos pocket 7’s held up and Lamb’s hopes for a main event bracelet to top off the world series of a lifetime were all but extinguished. It seemed inevitable when Lamb was officially ousted on the fourth hand of the night…again by Mr. Chess federation expert, the nerdish Czech stupor star stazko.

The battle was then on….it lasted over one hundred hands and the grind of heads up play seemed to be wearing on young heinz. His chip count fluctuated greatly up and down and to my eyes it seemed a near certainty that the older and more patient stazko would eventually take down the hardware.

All of a sudden a huge hand developed on a king ten club flop. A raise of 4 million after the flop was made by heinz. As he had successfully done many times previously in their heads up battle, the wild and woolly Czech nerd king stazko came over the top of our hero heinz with a 3 bet to 11 million. After some boyish hollywooding by heinz he announced he was all in. His propensity to 3 bet light so often earlier in the tournament made stazko’s ill timed call with queen nine of clubs seemingly an easy one. Heinz turned over red ace queen which h meant he was ahead pending a sure to be stressful sweat of a turn and river that needed to be red on the head linear dick on a dog if our pal Pius had any chance of winning the massive 160+ million $ pot and taking the chip lead back from stanzko….by a huge margin.

Well the turn and river were no where close to helping the Czech bastard and he found himself sitting across the table looking up at a truly immense tower of chips in the hands of his maniacally spewy opponent Pius heinz who sealed the deal ten minutes later when he woke up with ace king in a hand where the Czech stazko shoves with 10 7 suited. Heinz made the easy call the board was a piece of shit that did nothing to improve either of the contestants hands thereby making ace high the hand that cemented a rather large first place prize of 8.7 milion US$ for the 22 year old heinz. the win was pretty bad ass and. I want to congratulate Mr. Heinz on a job well done.

If he could send me a thousand for writing such a nice feature story about him that would be so sick.

Ian McCall will kick ass tonight at Tachi Palace.


Ian McCall faces Darrell Montague tonight for the Tachi Palace Fights flyweight championship.  For those who don’t know, flyweights  fight at 125 lbs.  Personally, I think its bullshit that the UFC doesn’t yet have a 125 lb. division.  At the moment 135 lbs. (Bantamweight) is as low as the UFC goes.  Unless you are brain-dead you already know who fights in that division.  Guys like Dominick Cruz (who also happens to be the current UFC Champion, Urijah Faber, Brian Bowles, Jeff Curran, Scott Jorgenson and Joseph Benavides.

Although Ian will be crowned champion in an organization called Tachi Palace Fights rather then UFC, early next year the UFC will be adding the featherweight class and Ian will be going to the UFC as Champion in much the same way as Dominick Cruz did in the Bantamweight divison.  I am totally biased because Ian is my buddy;  therefore Darrell Montague has no chance in this fight hahahaha.  No, but really, Ian is a sick, sick fighter, full of confidence, utterly fearless, in shape beyond belief, and ruthless in the cage.

He has an incredible record of 10-2 with his only losses coming against Dominick Cruz (see above where it says current UFC bantamweight champion….yeah that Dominick Cruz).  I haven’t seen that fight except for one little snippet but Ian lost that one I guess in a unanimous decision.  Nothing to hang his head about on that loss.  Cruz is on most pound for pound greatest fighter lists and believe me if you haven’t seen him fight, its an awesome thing to behold. Cruz just ran roughshod over his previous opponent (Urijah Faber…..), and I’ve seen him handle Joseph Benavides who is a bad ass fighter himself, not once but twice.  So take nothing away from Ian for losing a fight to Dominick Cruz.  Plus it was years ago anyways and it was in the WEC, a breeding ground for all sorts of bad ass fighters.  I could name dozens (and so could you probably lol).  Ian’s only other loss was also against a tough as nails WEC veteran, a guy who I’ve seen fight on television a bunch of times.  I’m talking about Charlie Valencia.  That was at WEC 31 (Faber vs. Curran).   He lost by submission in that one (I think by guillotine choke but don’t quote me, I’m doing this little blurb from memory and my memory isn’t that great to begin with.

You can do a search on the internet and find some of Ian’s fight videos.

Here is his last fight against a very game Dustin Ortiz, where Ian dominated

To be fair you can’t just check out the wins.  Here’s one of his losses (if the link works….)

Here is part 1 of his unanimous decision against the then #1 ranked flyweight, the undefeated Jussier da Silva (11-0)

Check them out if you haven’t already.  You will agree that he is an edgy, skilled, fearless and very talented fighter.  He has years of experience.  He has trained ultra hard/smart for this fight and to be honest although I don’t know much about Darrell Montague, I’m picking Ian McCall 100% for this fight.  He’s too fucking fast, he kicks too hard, he’s got too much energy and way too many moves for Montague to overcome.  Ian actually reminds me a lot of Dominick Cruz.  The way he dances around, evading the opponent always, just getting in his kicks, punches, elbows and then escaping is reminiscent of Cruz for sure.  Not sure if Ian will be too stoked about me saying that but it’s just my opinion. And I gotta say, Cruz is a bad ass motherfucker and I love watching him fight so its only a compliment to be compared to his stylistically right?

One more thing in Ian’s favor is the fact that he is settling down in life outside the cage.  He’s got a hot girlfriend who I think he’s getting married to soon and they are expecting a daughter in the next few months as well.  That kind of shit going on in your life is supreme motivation (and maybe a tiny bit of pressure as well).  I can see just from the quotes that Montague is sort of looking past Ian like this is going to be some kind of walk in the park, exhibition of whatever and he thinks he’s just gonna win no worries.  He’s fucking high if he thinks he is just going for a stroll in the park against Ian.  Sorry dude fuck that.

I think Montague is cocky where McCall is confident.  Montague reminds me a little of that dude that fought Michael Bisping at the UFC in Sydney a few months ago (UFC 127??).  I forgot that dudes name something like Jorge Rivera.  Whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is Rivera was talking madness before his fight with Bisping and was super cocky (not saying Montague is acting like that but I just get that sorta feeling).  Anyway Bisping was offended by some of the shit Rivera was doing before the fight and it was what I like to call righteous anger and bottom line Rivera got humiliated big time.  He got his ass kicked, it was so rad.  Probably a lot of you hate Bisping for some reason but I don’t actually.  I like him.  I get alone good with Brits and Aussies and that sort anyway but whatever, he doesn’t offend me and yeah he himself did get his head fucking completely handed to him against Dan Henderson.  Completely knocked the fuck out which so many people were so happy about.  He took it like a man though.

I digress (as usual).

My point is that confidence and belief in yourself is supremely important.  When it crosses a line to cockiness and arrogance that’s when people get fucked up.  Karma and stuff.  I watched a little video that Ian did, an interview with some MMA Expert Guy, it must have taken place like a day ago or something because Mr. McCall looks like he’s at 125 lbs. right now.  Anyway, in the interview, even though Ian is joking around and shit, talking about his mustache and keeping his tone light and kinda joking, you can look into his eyes and see how deadly serious he is about this fight.  There is no brash cockiness.  There is no arrogance.  There is just a guy who has prepared himself for his destiny, a guy who has a family to support, a guy who is hungry and knows he deserves to be in this championship battle.  That guy is Ian McCall.  Tonight we are hopefully going to see Mr. McCall teach Mr. Montague (the villain hahahahhahaha) a lesson about humility and what its like to face a tornado with skills in the ring.

Ian, my friend I wish you luck tonight dude.  I sincerely want nothing more than for you to kick some fucking assssssssssssssssssssssssss!  Montague supposedly said that Ian is in for a long night tonight.  Well, we’ll just see who’s gonna be laying on the canvas praying for the bell.

There are some other fights on the card but I don’t give a shit about them enough to write a bunch of shit that no one is gonna read anyways.  To watch Ian’s fight though, you can go to this site http://www.sherdog.com/

Kick ASS !

If you actually read this, I thank you kindly.  I’m publishing it to my blog pre fight so whatever happens there is no bandwagon jumping on or off for me.  Ian will destroy and Ian will be champion.

Adios…..

People Who Died: Trevor McGrew


I’m trying to remember exactly how long ago it was when I met Trevor McGrew.  I’m thinking I need to backtrack from the present to get to anything resembling an accurate year even.  That’s not saying much for my memory I know but shit…it gets a little bit hazy.  The easiest way for me to put things in their sorta proper time frames is to base it off of my daughter Ciara Mandich’s age and go from there.  I definitely know that Ciara is 14 years old and was born on May 16th, 1997.  I found out Heather was pregnant with Ciara sometime in September of 1996ish.  I was working at TSA Clothing as Accounting Manager at that time and our warehouse was still at the end of 18th Street in Costa Mesa.  I remember that me and Jim Waataja went to some cell phone place on Harbor Blvd. that day and that Heather had given me a little cute letter all folded up that I opened while me and Jim were getting our cell phones.

Not that it matters but the letter said, Dear Tony, It’s true.  I have a bun in my oven.  Love Heather. Cute huh.  I’m chuckling at that right now because what does it really have to do with the topic of this story about Trevor?

So…..

Anyways……

I found out Heather was pregnant.  That was September of 1996.  I was living on Superior right across the street from Hoag Hospital with Jim Waataja.  Rene Prospero and Chad Muska also sort of lived there.  Chad slept on our couch a lot.  Rene had the tiny closet downstairs.  That was his room ha ha ha ha.  It was literally like six feet deep by three feet wide and he made it into a bedroom and I would always boss him around and tell him to get to his room.  We called him Stick Dog.  It would be like this:

“Shut the fuck up Stick Dog.  Go to your room Stick Dog.  Shut the fuck up”.

For some reason he would totally listen and go to his room with his little ass blankets and stay in there.  Strange kid.

Again I digress.

I met Jim like five months earlier then that so maybe April of 1996.  At that time I still was working like at FHP Healthcare or Talbert Medical Management Corporation and I was living in Huntington Beach.  I had just gotten my convertible BMW which was a sick sick car.  I lived on Pensacola Circle with this idiot named coincidentally Jim.  He was a total moron but fuck that I’m not gonna get into that.  Believe me I could but I won’t.  Before Pensacola Circle I was on Fern Street in Newport Shores living with Scotty and Gerald.  I only lived there for a short time because they had this friend named Monica who sold coke and weed and one night when I was totally fucking wasted I went over to her house and pretty much robbed her.  She had this dude there like some friend of hers I don’t remember his name.  She wasn’t there.  I forgot where I was earlier that night but I’m pretty sure it was like El Ranchito with Trevor McGrew, Joe Huff, Joe Todora and some other dudes.  Like I said I was so fucked up.  Long story short, the dude didn’t wanna let me in which is totally reasonable seeing that I was fucked up as hell, Monica wasn’t home, and he didn’t know me.  Total asshole move by me, I ended up getting into a long and drawn out fist fight with the dude.  He was about my size and sober and relatively tough but I think I ended up getting through him and into Monica’s room.  She had this jar, like a Mason jar, full of little baggies with one nugget of crip weed in each one but I wasn’t there for that.  I hate weed.  I wanted coke for sure.  I know I didn’t find any coke.  I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking like I said this was a total bad move by me.  I ended up grabbing a couple of twenties of weed that I didn’t even want and fought my way back through the house and outside.  By this time Monica was arriving home as I was running down the sidewalk.  I lived like one street over from her.  Duh.  So anyways, the dude I fought with must have told her what I did right.

Pause right there and keep in mind we are in Newport Shores which is totally densely populated as fuck so the ruckus I had caused getting into the room to begin with to steal the chick’s weed that I didn’t even want had woken some neighbors or something and someone called the cops I guess.  I don’t know because I never saw them that night I only heard about it the next day when I was so insanely hungover and bumming so hard on my out of control self and the shit I had caused.  So as the dude tells Monica that I stole her drugs and I’m hop scotching it the fuck down the sidewalk, Monica, righteously furiously angry is screaming, “That dude stole my drugs……”.

I guess the cops heard that, went into her house, searched it, (she had a warrant anyways, like a bad bench warrant for a third DUI she failed to appear for), found the drugs, arrested her and wow.  Just made my stupid drunken idiotic move even that much worse.  So yeah bottom line, my friends I lived with who hadn’t even really known me that long to begin with and were totally long time friends with Monica were totally pissed and I had no choice but to run from the scene basically.  Luckily I found that place on Pensacola Circle in HB.  Otherwise I would have been living on the streets for sure.  I’m thinking that must have been maybe January of 1996.  Backtrack a little bit more and I was living at 116 37th Street right down in the war zone or fun zone or whatever its called down in Newport.  I lived there about 8 months.  Insanity for sure.  Not even going to tell any stories about that right now or else this won’t even be a story about Trevor you know what  I mean.  I’m reaching as it is.

So that puts me at when?  Like May of 1995 or so when I moved to 37th Street.  I moved to 37th from Fern Street.  Same street I was living on when I did my big weed heist which got Monica put in jail for like 200 days (MY GOD I felt like such a fucking dick about that).  This was Fern Street Part I though when I lived at 202A Fern Street, downstairs from my life long friend Thadius Daniels.  I lived with this chick named Carrie Babbitt (who coincidentally hates my guts to this very day for an incident that I wasn’t even involved with but according to her I had the power to stop from happening and failed to do so etc….long story).  I probably moved in with Carrie somewhere around August of 1994.  Total guess there but I know I was on unemployment after I had already been living there for a little bit and I ended up going to Las Vegas to work doing tile with my friend Conley Massey and this dude named Dirk (Morganstern?).  For sure I was living in Vegas with Conley and still had my room with Carrie during the winter of that year because I remember it being cold as shit over there.

So August of 1994 is the approximate time I moved to Fern Street.  We’re going to say anyways.  Now I had been coming down to Fern Street for maybe 3 months prior to that and hanging out with Thad and getting wasted etc.  So that takes us to about May of 1994.

And thats when I ‘m going to say I met Trevor McGrew.  Trevor had a little house right next door to Thad, on the same side of the street and everything.  So I guess his address was 204A Fern Street, Newport Beach, California.  He was five years younger then me.  I just verified that by looking at one of the newspaper articles about his death so that’s a pretty accurate number.  He was 36 in 2009 when he died.  So minus fifteen years off of that and that puts him at 21 when I met him.  For sure he could go to all of the bars because we went to millions of them so 21 is a pretty good number.

Is anyone still actually reading this.  I just realized how schizo this story must sound but whatever.  I had to go through that little process just to get some kind of a somewhat reasonable estimate of when I met the dude.  Damn that was complicated though.  Sorry.

Back to Trevor.  This is probably one of those stories that if certain people do read it they will totally hate the fact that I’m even writing about him.  This is due to the circumstances in which he died.  And while I’m definitely sympathetic and understanding of everyone’s point of view about Trevor, how he died has nothing at all to do with my relationship with him or any times I ever shared with him.  He totally had an impact on my life in a good way and I loved him for sure so lets just say I’m telling you my own life story and I can’t omit the chapter having to do with Trevor so there it is there.

Trevor was a blond surfer dude with a little gap in between his two front teeth if I remember correctly.  He was a good looking guy and had a hot girlfriend named Suzanne Blackburn.  They lived together and I can’t remember if they had a roommate or not but I’m pretty sure that they did and it might have been Joe Todora.  Don’t hold me to that part though.  Anyways Trevor loved to surf and skate and drink and fuck around.  He was a wild and crazy dude and totally funny and had millions of friends around Newport and all over.  Like a totally popular dude.  I had been coming down from Corona to party with Thad and all of our friends most weekends and Trevor was around and I would hang out with him too.  I thought he was so fucking cool because…..he was man.  Even though I was like this kooky idiot from the Inland Empire and didn’t even live in Newport, let alone Newport Shores, which was such a “locals only” environment, Trevor was still cool as hell.  We would get wasted as shit and Trevor would get wild.  I mean he was crazy wild.  In a good way but still a crazy and kind of scary way.  He wasn’t scary in the sense that he was going to get all violent with any of us but he would do crazy shit when he was drunk and he wasn’t scared of jack shit, I mean nothing.

After a just a short time of me going down there to party with Thad, I started hanging out with everybody on Fern Street, not just Thad and our crew from Corona like Gordy, Rick Hagaman, Conley Massey, Mark Hudson, Rob Gubion, Steve Jacobson, Jason Clark, Jason Rhodes, Matt Hopkins, and Frank Colapinto.

These dudes from Newport were nuts and I liked them and definitely wanted to be part of their little crowd.  Everybody that lived on Fern Street partied together and went to the bars together and represented the Shores and Fern Street as a little mini kinda gang.  Thad was my intro to them all in general but Trevor was the one who made me so easily accepted by everyone who lived down there.  Like I said, Trevor didn’t care where I was from.  Me and him got along super super super good and hung out all the fucking time.  He was definitely like  a made man in Newport, liked and accepted by everyone, questioned or harassed by no one.  No one fucked with Trevor period.  He just had it like that.  Chicks loved him, dudes loved him, he had all kinds of fans.  I was always with him so nobody fucked with me either which was cool because I didn’t know nobody, I didn’t grow up there and I just wanted to fit in and have a good time.

Trevor made that happen for me and I loved him for it.  Here’s a quick run down of who else lived on Fern Street at that time okay.  So there was Dave and Isaac and Joe Todora and Joe Huff and Joe Huff’s girlfriend who was so fucking hot my God I would have given anything to be naked with her.  There was Jason Haught, and he was another one that had all the charisma and good looks and surfing ability and chicks and friends and I hung out with him alot too.  Jason is a way cool dude.  He was with this French Canadian chick named Marie Claude.  She was hot as fuck too with no makeup either and she barely understood English, she was just visiting Newport and fell totally in love with Jason.  He had it like that.  All of the chicks fucking LOVED that guy.  He worked at Mutt Lynch’s as a bar back and girls were constantly throwing themselves at him.  He got laid like EVERY night.  I remember this one chick wrote on the back of her business card “Here’s my number, I want your lumber” and gave it to him.  I thought that was so fucking cool man.

Jason lived upstairs from Gerald and Scotty with this dude named EP (Eric Peterson).  EP didn’t think I was cool I don’t think.  He never really liked me.  Guessing he thought I was a try hard, Inland Empire kook who didn’t know how to surf and wasn’t local.  He was totally right.  I still liked him though.  Which is neither here nor there actually.

Trevor had tons of friends like I said and not just on Fern Street.  All over.  It was rad going to parties and bars with Trevor because you felt totally safe.  Trevor liked to get drunk and fight.  When he got in fights he always won.  He kicked fucking ass man.  I guarantee that whoever was stupid enough to get it going with Trevor, especially when he was buzzed, regretted it immediately.  He was good for a black eye, busted ass lip, broken nose, lumped up head….shit like that.  I never saw him back down, or lose a fight.  He never started them on purpose though.  He also never held a grudge after.  You could fight Trevor, get your ass kicked big time, stand around and bleed and feel sorry for yourself for awhile, but when you were ready to talk about it later that same day or whenever, he never held that shit against you.  Trevor would be gracious in victory and humble about it hahaha but really it was better to not fuck with him.

Some of Trevor’s friends that I can remember are dudes like Johnny (Stogie), Litzy (Eric Litzenberg), Jeff Lonzway and his chick Gina and his brother Snowy, and this dude Smitty.  They all had known each other forever and it was cool just hanging out with all of them and listening to all the shit they got up to and stories they told.  We would go down to bars like Mutt Lynch’s, Stag Bar, and especially Cassidy’s.  I always felt so cool if I was with the dudes from Fern Street, especially Trevor or Jason.  Couldn’t even begin to tell you how many times I got laid just by hanging with them, especially Jason, because Trevor had a live in girlfriend like I said.

This hasn’t been like some kind of glowing testimonial about what a great guy Trevor was and really that’s my fault because he was a great guy, at least to me.  He was a good friend and would totally be cool with anyone that wasn’t a pussy and that would be cool with him.  He always made sure that I was included in on everything and he made me way tougher of a dude because he wasn’t into being a coward in any way.  I remember not long after that night where I dicked out hard and got that Monica girl arrested and basically acted like a piece of drunk shit, Trevor was still my friend and didn’t join in the bandwagon of people calling me a kook and calling for my head.  Trust me I deserved that and in my own mind I totally had an ass beating coming if not worse.  It never happened but still I deserved it.  Even though I deserved to be shunned and scorned, still though, a lot of the people pointing fingers at me were just jumping on the bandwagon.  It was such an easy call you know what I mean.  I wouldn’t have blamed Trevor if he joined in as well.  He had known that girl for years and years and was totally tight with her.

God bless him though, he stuck by me as my friend.  Trevor lived to buck trends and do the opposite of what was expected of him.  He was rooting for the underdog always and I was grateful that he didn’t turn his back on me then.  Like I said, I didn’t deserve that sorta mercy, but I got it from Trevor.  And I can never forget that.  The only thing about it was that he didn’t want to see me pussing out about it and hiding my face.  We went to El Ranchito like two days after it happened and I’m not gonna lie I was scared.  I thought for sure I was going to get jumped by Monica’s friends.  I didn’t want to go in the place, I was like whimpering to Trevor before we went in, “what if her friends are there, what if they wanna kill me, what am I gonna do????”

He pushed me against the stucco wall.  Hard.  Right outside the door of El Ranchito.  “Don’t be a fucking pussy.  Get in there and don’t worry about it”.  That kind of set me straight in my head and I went in there like I belonged.  Acted like I owned the place like usual.  Nobody had the balls to come up and say a word and the whole story died down pretty fast.

Trevor loved salt water fish tanks.  So did I.  We both were always buying shit for our tanks and competing on who had the raddest coral and coolest fish.  While I knew Trevor in those Newport days, he was always a hard working guy, no matter how fucked up he got the night before he still always went to work every day.  His place was always clean and he had a pretty good relationship with Suzie.  He definitely loved her I know that.  And she loved him too.

Okay so that’s pretty much where my story with Trevor ends.  I loved the guy but I ended up moving out of that area and didn’t really keep in touch with anybody.  I still did talk to Trevor every now and then.  I heard stories that he was getting into all sorts of trouble like doing speed and just out of control drinking and that sorta shit.  He got married to Suzie and they had a daughter and I heard that he like left her for awhile and stuff.  This is just through the grapevine talk.  I personally didn’t see Trevor again after about 1996.  The last I heard, right after I got home from living in New Zealand in May of 2008, was that Trevor was living in Lake Havasu with Suzie and things were good. Jason Haught is the one who told me that.  We found each other on myspace.com and were chatting back and forth for a few months.

Fast forward to September of 2010.  I’m going out with this girl from Newport, April Shand.  She hooks me up with this dude (no names mentioned) who sells meth and I wanted some.  I go over to the dude’s house and his roommate is a friend from back in the Newport days with Trevor.  It’s Eric Litzenberg.  I hadn’t seen him in years so we are chatting away for a while and I ask him about Trevor, hoping he had his number and stuff so I could get in touch.  And then he dropped the bomb on me.  Litzy’s like, “haven’t you heard?”.

Uhhhh no.  Heard what, I say.  And he tells me this crazy fucking story.  He tells me that Trevor was living in Havasu and was having marital problems with Suzie to the point where she basically left him and is seeing some other dude.  Trevor I guess was pretty out of control, either on drugs or alcohol, or both.  I’m not clear on that part.  Anyway, I guess one day in January of 2009, Trevor knows Suzie is seeing some dude and he follows her secretly to the guys house.  I have no idea what was going on in his marriage or in his mind, I only know the facts as they were told to me by Eric Litzenberg and then what I read on the internet.  So, he follows her, waits a little bit I guess and then goes and knocks on the dude’s door.  This is in Lake Havasu somewhere.  I know that Trevor did have some friend of his with him and they were in Trevor’s truck.  Obviously the friend didn’t know what was going to happen.  Trevor had a gun with him.  Trevor knocked on the dude’s door.  I heard that Suzie and the dude were both at the door.  I also heard that Trevor put the gun in Suzie’s face.  I don’t know if that’s a fact or not, it’s just what I heard.

What is a fact though, is that Trevor shot the dude, 36 year old Matt Gandy.  Killed him in fact.  Right on his doorstep at about 5:30 p.m. on January 15th, 2009.   Then Trevor jumped in his truck and took off.  His friend that was with him sustained minor injuries when he  jumped out of the truck after seeing what Trevor did.  Obviously like I said that was unexpected and the dude didn’t want to be in the truck with Trev after that.  Totally understandable.  Trevor’s friend was a guy named Brian Corners.  I am not familiar with Brian or the guy that Trevor killed, Matt.  I’m pretty sure Matt used to live in Newport and knew Trevor and Suzie from California but again I’m speculating.  Anyhow, Trevor left the scene and went to his house with the .45 semi automatic pistol and killed himself.  I’m not sure when he did that but I do know the SWAT team entered his house a little after 11 pm after several unsuccessful attempts to communicate via the phone and whatever other means they normally use to negotiate with people.  When they entered his house, he was dead.

I have to be honest when Litzy told me that story I was floored.  I mean, in shock, mouth open, disbelief.  Crazy fucking story.  Tragic, sad, horrible story.  Not a good way to go out.  Not a good thing to do killing someone.  Not a good way to deal with his situation with his wife.  Just bad news all around.  I’ve read lots of stuff about Matt Gandy and from all accounts he was a great guy who didn’t deserve to die that way.  I believe what I’ve read.  I’m sure he was a good guy.  I’m really sorry that he died, sorry for his family, just sorry period.  I’ve also read that Trev was a monster and all this other shit.  That I don’t believe.  I know he did a horrible thing.  A horrible thing.  I’m not taking anything away from that fact.  That was wrong and bad.

I’m sorry though, I knew Trevor really well and he wasn’t a monster.  Regardless of how his life ended, he wasn’t a monster.  He was a good guy with a big heart and he wasn’t evil.  I swear he wasn’t.  I don’t know what was going through his mind that day but the fact that he committed murder notwithstanding, Trevor, in his heart was a good person.

I’m sure that the family and friends of Mr. Gandy don’t agree and who can blame them.  Their son, brother, friend, uncle, nephew was taken from them at such a young age and for no good reason.  He was only 36.  That totally sucks.  My condolences to his loved ones.

But my condolences to those who loved Trevor as well.  He was also 36 and died tragically, albeit through circumstances he brought upon himself.  It’s still tragic either way and I’m still sad and blown away whenever I think about Trevor.  I’ll always love Trev and consider him one of my best friends of my life.  I’m sorry I couldn’t have been in more contact with him or helped him in some way.  It really sucks.

Anyway that’s the story of  Trevor McGrew.  A friend of mine that died.

No Shame: The Anthony Mandich Saga


thanks swingin’ utters for that tasty title.  you control your rage and you resist the crime because you’re the next in line. i am simply pumping the utters right now in my squalid den.   this place is worse then it was when i wrote the story about cleaning the hovel i call a room a year ago.  believe me you don’t want to see it.  its fucking horrible but actually pretty rad.  i’m in rare form today.  especially with the murder city devils singing about sailor’s girls and trucker’s wives as they are now.  the only thing.  the only thing i ever wanted is going to fuck you over is going to fuck us up.  to be left behind.  you should know.  like a smuggler like a trucker. etc. etc. etc.

so the royal wedding has taken place obviously.  i got an email from Life magazine informing me of the availability of the pictorials.  i went and violated the copyright law and “grabbed” on with my special “grab” tool and went crazy on it for an hour or two just totally uncontrolled crazy millions of gradients and erased spots and color fill layers and trasnparent red spray paint on inverted colour burnt layers probably maybe 50 layers and all copy merged and transformed and filtered liquified and color dodged and rasterized and just nuts.  then flattened the whole fucking thing without saving any of my work and here that is okay.  (as rhianna is singing “so if you feel me let me know know know ” HAHAHAHA SOME PUNK ROCK TOUGH GUY I AM) fuck it.  shut up and read.

once i ran to you now i run from you.  now i know i’ve got to run away i’ve got to get away.  (social distortion singing about tainted love) don’t touch me please i cannot stand the way you…..

ramble on and make no sense and expect everybody to follow your manic episode hahahaha.  i love you though you hurt me so .

now i’m (literally) going to pack my things and go.

i sold the tascam 38 8 channel reel to reel recorder that i got from james morris via the city of rancho cucamonga and so cal sandbags.  on ebay.  the highest bidder was francisco from monrovia.  francisco drove over to my house yesterday to pay me exactly 265 dollars.  that was the winning bid.  awesome.  i was so stoked.  it was so needed.  don’t forget that i have to be out of this house by sunday thats in two fucking days my friends.  two days.  jesus mary and joseph.  i’m not even packed.

but i am listening to thriller by michael jackson which is pretty bad ass.  before that was stone cold crazy that metalliica song.  i went to pechanga with the 265 last night.  i know it was stupid but i need so much more then 265 if you know what i mean.  i owe my buddy landon 100 bucks and he’s go tone of my best paintings in hock until i pay him.  the thing is he needs the money and i need cash to move.  at least 500 for that etc etc etc.  so i walked out of pechanga with 1300.  that was pretty bad ass.  played SOME POKER on the big kids table (100-300 buy in) and got lucky with pocket aces my second hand and doubled up easily.  went on to pretty much fuck shit up at that table and walked downstairs with my pocket STUFFED

lol

full of $5 chips.  rad.

won all night basically.  and walked with it all.  went straight to the donut shop lol got my chocolate milk glazed twist and choccy twist and then went and got car insurance for $178 before my registration gets suspended on the 9th of may.  i was reminded about that when my friend stephanie burns told me about some dude friend of hers who got pulled over by the cops with a shit ton of meth on him.  he got five years in prison.  and why did he get pulled over?  oh because he had suspended registration on his car like a moron.  poor guy.  not that i’m driving around with shit tons of anything illicit but still it reminded me that it would be a pretty good idea to get  insurance.  so i did that.  yay for me.

only my die hard admirers will have read this far in this post cuz its a bullshit post to be sure.  by the way “we can be heroes” at least according to david bowie.  i’ve got a couple of options for places to

she is known the world wide as eighth letter.

live now which is cool….one’s in eastvale and one’s in crown town by the golf course where my sister used to bartend at.  i heard some incredibly disturbing stories about my sisters deasth last night.  i’m not gonna say who told me or what they told me because there is litigation going on but its fucking horrible and it put me in a sick goosebumps on my head horror stricken mood for a couple hours last night.  i am going to tell our lawyer about it.  enough about that.

by the way i apologize for any times i’ve ever been a fair weathered friend to anybody i know.  just saying that for sincerely reals i won’t say why on that one either but yeah i had to put someone in check actually two someones in check last night.  i know i’m a taker lots and not always a giver materially but i do feel like i am a giver emotionally and friendship wise but if not sorry about that and i can only strive to improve myself.

well shit i got shit to do you guys so thankfully for you i’m going to close this shitty little entry out.  hope you can forgive me for the

call her what you will she's still my mom

terrible incomprehensible shadowy sing song say nothing chant of a rant that defines the makeup of this story today.  i’m sorry.  my mind is in a million and one places you have no idea.  talk soon.

sometimes i feel i’ve got to run away i’ve got to get away

People Who Died: Charles


Karma Police have pulled me over it seems.  I’m hoping I don’t get arrested by these guys because I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take to be honest.  The universe seems to be against me or maybe I am just against success.  Do I owe this life to mediocrity?  I stand in my own way.  I do.  I do.  I really fucking do.  There is a sick part of my heart that jumps all over any impulsive idea that springs into my mind and I’m seemingly too stubborn to stop it.  How many times have I relied on the goodness of strangers to get my ass out of a sling?  So many it boggles the mind.  Blessed and cursed was I…good looks and charm….I rely on both of them way too much.  This rut I’m in just keeps digging itself deeper and deeper.

When does the digging stop and the burying begin?

Scared to find that out to be honest.  The enormity of the task that lies in front of me should I desire to continue battling just seems overwhelming.  All systems are failing lets not mince words.  Is my core still intact or is it rotten and poisoned?  I can’t tell anymore.

Cerebral thinker, polluted well, the water smells off, have I been living in hell?

Surrounded by demons or are they just ghosts? Calling to me.  Beckoning me closer…Closer to what?

That’s the scary part.  Half of me already knows the answer to that and it spells only darkness and a reunion I’m not anxious to have.  I don’t want to be a name on the list of People Who Died, as much as I love them, I don’t want to see them anytime soon.

Yet…even now I hear faded whispers, see smiles in the dark, hear chuckles and scraping,  the moon is so full tonight, translucent light from an unnatural source the sickly green phosphorent beakers of decadence.

Calling to me from  the ancient past, promising details to questions and mysteries I didn’t ask and had no idea remained unsolved.

Regicide, the killing of a king, regicides, the killings of kings…

Who slipped him the poison with a smile on his face and teeth in his heart?  Who whispered my name to the wolves that run the action wherever I journey?

What kind of insect bit Charle’s killer, infected him with madness, forced him to pull the trigger?  You see that’s where it all started for me I believe.  The slow whirlpool spinning me around and around, unable to climb out unable to drown just spinning and spinning….faster and faster.  It all started with Charles McEldowney, Bo Kai Di, Chuck,

Vietnamese….American….Devil….Angel….dead.  For sure he is dead.

It’s been 5 years and 9 months since Chuck was shot by a young and angry Vietnamese kid.  5 y 9 m since the kid knocked on Charlie’s door.  It was in August of 2005. Charles lived real close to Dodger’s Stadium.  I wonder if the Dodgers were home that evening?  Or was the stadium as empty as the soul of the kid who put the gun up to Chuckie’s chest when he opened the door.  Pulled the trigger.  Walked away.  Somebody took Charles to the Emergency Room.  I don’t know what hospital he died at.  I don’t even know how to properly spell his American name or Vietnamese name.  I just know that my life hasn’t been the same since I got the call on the third floor of the Stellar Bar in Melboune, Australia from Heather Batchelder.

Charles drowned on his own blood.  That’s what I’ve been told.  I’m going to let you see this letter that I wrote to the world when I could find time to console myself back then.  From what I understand a printout of this letter was included with Charles when they put him in the oven that incinerated his flesh.  A copy of this letter is intermingled with his ashes and spread everywhere and nowhere.  Charles drowned in his own blood.

Who was there to see him off?  This was an unplanned journey to eternity.  When did his thoughts shift from whatever nonsensical things he was doing 5 minutes before the doorbell rang to “oh my god I am dead god please jesus please oh my god I  can’t breathe help me “.  His eyes must have been frantic.  Or maybe he was just that badass that he accepted it and floated away.

Come to think of it…a lot of things would be easier if I knew what happened to Charles.  I would like to see everything from 5 minutes to door bell ringing to where he is now.  If anywhere.  I’d like to know if he can still have thoughts in his mind.  Where did he end up?  Or is he just gone, not even rotting because of the cremation but just gone as if he never existed?

For at least 6 months after he died, somebody paid his mobile phone bill so his answering machine was still working.  I used to call that number from Australia all the time just to hear his voice.  It would rip me apart but I did it so many times.  I wonder who else used to call and leave messages for Charlie.   Did he ever get them?

I wrote this back in 05 when I was part owner of a bar in Melbourne, Australia.  Got some bad news from Heather Batchelder and Mike Barnes about my very good friend Charles.

—————– Original Message —————–
From: HOt sex and Greed
Date: Aug 11, 2005 1:14 PM

Aug 9, 2005 12:29 AM
Subject: The Legend of Bo Di Kai——–I am Fucking Shattered
Body: Honestly in all my life experiences I have never been as distraught, emotionally wrecked, torn to pieces, sad, angry, and overall just a mess as I was and AM STILL over the stupid senseless killing of my friend and companion and kindred brother Charles McEldowney on the Second of August, 2005 in LA.

Some fucking jackass who obviously can’t handle their drug intake of ice tripped the fuck out of his head and had some delusion of Charlie doing something threatening somehow someway and actually killed my friend Charles.

I have suffered through many fucked up things in my wonderful life to date. None has affected me quite as much as this. I live in Australia now and I can’t fucking even go home to the funeral. It’s so fucked.

If you never met Charles your life is not as fulfilled as it should be let me just tell you that. He was a great personality and the most funny, generous, twisted and delightfully evil man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I know that I will never meet another like him.

If you only knew how many nights in the last twelve years that Charles and I have seen the sunrise together, talking shit, philosophizing, tinkering, drawing, partying, driving, planning, laughing, eating and just being brothers it would boggle the mind.

Fuck yah we were on drugs. Hooray for that. After Charles moved from OC to LA, I got a job at Ticketmaster in LA and was working down on Wilshire Blvd right there in Chinatown. And he lived there off of 8th Street and Grammercy. Literally 5 minutes walk from my work. I used to go over there at lunch and Charles would rescue me from the hellish hangover I would be enduring, with some hits of that dirty pretty ice pipe and we would have the best times. I don’t give a fuck if you think its lame. Drugs or any of it to tell you the truth. It was real and it was never the same and the adventures in LA with Chuck were legendary.

When I moved to downtown LBC with my Australian chick Ella, me and her used to go to Charles mobile house about three nights a week and pick up shit like maybe a half gram or something. It would always be like at 4 in the morning seriously and I would be covered in paint from whatever masterpiece I was working at the time and it was just so NOT THE SAME as the millions and billions of sheep living in California.

Charles sold drugs. Yah for Charles. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life. Implicitly. You know what that word means? Implicitly. Well I don’t know the exact dictionary meaning either but it’s a word that comes to mind when I think of Charles and trust. Like as in, it goes without saying. The dude had my back, any time any place. When I had money I gave him money. When I had none, he took none. It would not be an exagerration to say that Charles has actually given me my stash for the night AND GAS MONEY TO get back home AND A LITTLE MINI STASH for my chick and some sort of tool or gadget, a porno, and some food at least 100 times when I was living in Long Beach.

I would always be broke, being a degenerate gambler, yes its true. But Charles never gave a fuck about that. Literally didn’t give a fuck. Always made the time for me. Always. I tell you what. Straight up. The man meant more to me than almost anyone in this world. I love Charles. I thought he was the coolest person ever and he is my hero. Seriously my life will never be the same and the prospect of visiting California again isn’t even half as appetizing now that he is dead. I am that crushed.

I just found this shit out yesterday and I can’t stop welling up with tears about every 5 minutes. Is there anyone in your life that every time you see this person you feel this swell of affection in your heart and a smile just comes to your lips? Like you guys are so genuinely stoked to be in each others company whenever you get the chance in your busy lives? And once you start talking, all the other people in the room can’t even follow what you guys are talking about because they are just not on that wavelength. That is what we had man. Not in a gay way either for fucks sake. But in a non gay way Charles was a soulmate of mine and I really miss him so terribly much as I am typing this right now on a cold and rainy Melbourne Tuesday, the ninth of August, 2005. I miss you Charlie and I am fucking not very happy about any of this let me tell you.

As always with me and Charles he is paving the way. Charles was the stuff that legends are made of. Let the storytelling start now. I would say Rest in Peace but Charles liked staying up. Not resting. I do too. So all I can say is I love you brother and I miss you and not a cliche here: I will think about you every day for the rest of my life and thank you so much for every little thing you have ever done for me. You fucking rule. Bye Chuck.

Swamp chickens, Ghetto dwelling, and the Norco Crips


That title is surely an attention getter if ever I did see one.  By the way for the last week or so ever since I decided that I am from North Carolina you would do much better as far as understanding my nonsense if you read it in your mind as if you was also from North Carolina or any other state that refers to shopping carts as buggies.  Just read it with a twang and we’re gonna get along just fine okay.

I ain’t really got much time for a post here right now being the urban jet setting pretty boy that I am but I feel its necessary to touch base with my constituents from time to time as a way of  getting down into the trenches with y’all common folk.  Y’uns is spectacular prized pupils of mine.  The lesson that I am trying to teach has not been revealed to me as of yet but I’m sure it will be in time for all of us to get the necessary wisdom  from that there lesson.

Actually this is a garbled attempt at sounding somehow outlandish when really and truly I am in a rush.  I need to go meet up with my sister Theresa who has my driver’s license by 5pm at her place of gainful employment, I forgot the name of it but its over there up yonder somewhere in the vicinity of Lincoln Avenue and the 91 Freeway.  She done told me that it was on the other side of McDonald’s which must be a blessing for anyone to be so honored to work nearby such a beautiful and wonderful company outlet as a franchisee of McDonald’s.  I would love to work nearby McDonald’s and have the wonderful sensation of gaining a pound of rancid beef fat added to my svelte waistline each and everyday.  After all, its a very family friendly and budget conscious place to eat.  You know as well that McDonald’s corporate  headquarters has made it their mission in 2011 for all of its many franchises to express individuality and originality with their menu options.

For instance in Fontana, California, the McDonald’s franchisee up there has renamed his restaurant McTucky’s after their adopted home state of Kentucky.  They offer such delectable delights as the McSwamp Chicken Tenderloin sandwich in honor of the great state of Alabama (Roll Tide!!).  Does anyone know what a swamp chicken is by the way?  I coined the phrase myself of course one day last week in a state of extreme delirium when I was visited by an apparition of a redneck militia soldier who rolled up on me in his buggy while I was playing Cleopatra Keno over at Pechanga Casino.

I had been at the same machine for 16 days you see, and I felt like I needed dialysis treatment because my kidneys had been assaulted by nothing but Pepsis as way of nutrition the entire marathon session.  When you are sitting at a slot machine which you don’t want to give up because its already taken your firstborn child, your left testicle, 75% of your remaining life force and of course the contents of your wallet, all available credit cards and a good deal of your dignity (due to having been forced to prostitute yourself in the high limits bathrooms to creepy Asian matrons with breath that smells like Pork Kung Pao dipped in Ponzu Sauce and served with fresh garlic) it gets kinda hard to remember the basic fundamentals of healthy human living like eating food, taking showers and brushing your teeth (also known as gumming your hushpuppies, if you are from Missouri, the Buggy State).

It never fails you see, when you have thrown the equivalent of a brand new Chevrolet Suburban into a computerized personal one armed robbery facilitator, or “slot machine”, and you get up out of frustration to maybe clear your head, brush your nasty ass teeth and have a smoke while maybe even taking a look at the  sun for the first time in forever, that some old ass asian water buffalo will saunter up and immediately hit the progressive jackpot on your untended machine.  If you have ever gone through such a miserable and incomprehensibly demoralizing (sound familiar 12 steppers?) nightmare as I have many times you know what I’m talking about.  Its painful hombre.  Very very painful.

In an effort to ensure that  such a horrible outcome does not repeat itself, most compulsively degenerate morons who gamble, such as myself, have taken certain steps, which  when used in conjunction with a lobotomy, have been shown to be of assistance in dealing with this issue.  One of these steps is known as Transcendental Medication and is a method similar to the “meditation” practiced by Buddhists and New Age Flower Children for years now.  Many of the processes involved with TM as I’ll call it are the same only different as its older, better, less stupid brother, Meditation.  Both involve wiping the psyche clear of mental debris that maybe inhibiting the swamp also known as your mind and preventing it from processing life through a more realistic and less expensive filter then the constantly failing “Angry and Disgruntled Degenerate Slot Player” most of the people that benefit from TM have historically chosen.

You are probably asking yourself what any of this slick jargon has to do with the topic you are here to learn more about.  That topic of course is the history of the Swamp Chicken which no doubt has left you in a state of nervous anticipation, bordering on frenzied manic hysteria while you have been nervously counting down the hours until which time I deemed appropriate to share with you, gentle reader.  To be honest, I’m somewhat lost myself on what TM has to do with a swamp chicken.  The thing is, I  figure it would be a waste to waste (is that even proper grammar?) my elegantly crafted lines of pure horse manure that I’ve typed so far so (again….proper grammar?) I’m just going to have to continue bluffing at the connection between the two totally unrelated and actually non exsitent subjects.

I figure its easier to just continue double barreling y’all with blasts of bullshit that have no roots in reality rather then suck it up, admit to God, myself and all of the other human beings the exact nature of my “lack of anything meaningful to share” and start over or perhaps even scrap the whole ridiculous idea of writing a post today.  Hopefully, I can continue to baffle and amaze both of us with this boisterous, bat shit bending banter and somehow pull it all together at the end with some sort of  fairy tale like save while managing to sound humble, enthusiastic and pleasantly self effacing at the same time as appearing to be competent and genuine.

I am thinking that maybe this is a bit much to have on my plate today but you know what “they” say…(throw in some tired cliche about never losing sight of your dreams) and a blah blah blah blah blah blah and a yaddha yaddha yaddha.

Oh yeah, ghetto dwelling and the Norco Crips too okay? Assa lamma lenkum my brothers and sisters and God bless us each and everyone.  Take care folks, talk to y’uns later.

This is Anthony Mandich, your humble and nutritious servant saying, So Long!

Muah!!!

P.S.  “Hottest Ass”

P.P.S. “Sex, drugs, and Pussy”!

P.P.S.S. “Sean Stenlake”, Sean Stenlake:  Attorney at Law, Sean Stenlake:  American Hero, Sean Stenlake:  The Brother I Never Knew, Sean Stenlake:  Lessons in Being Great, Sean Stenlake I Love You, Sean Stenlake:  Blue Eyed Wunderkind, Sean Stenlake:  Everything You Have Always Wanted to Know But Were Afraid to Assk

one last thing, i’m going to experiment to see how many hits i get from putting these tags in this post okay?  sean stenlake, sean stenlake attorney, anthony mandich idiot savant, what a stupid blog, god i’m dumb, ass, hottest ass, hottest fucking ass meets hotter fucking ass, asses that are hot, hotties without ass, ass loving hoes, what an ass, asshole, ass ass ass nothing but just pure ass, got ass?, want ass?, smell my ass, you are an ass, assume nothing, makes an ass out of you and me, get it ass?, ha ha ha ass sss you eaten dinner yet, ass is assembled, big huge ass in my ass, tickle my ass, put your cigar out on my ass, man do i love talking about ass, ass is so cool man, its all about the ass, get it, ass???, who wants to over use the word ass?, jackass, horse’s ass, jackasses with ass eating tendencies, horse’s ass is a big ass and they fuck that ass, horny mexican mamas with hottest ass, korean ass, chinese ass, japanese ass, white trash ass bandit, booty smelling ass pigs, ass in zen, common characteristics of an ass, wikipedia entry for ass, history of anthony mandich’s ass, poop comes out of a butt but you sir are an ass, Wiki ass, wiki mandich asshole, fucking ass lover, grape nuts drive me nuts ass boy, why do you love the mans ass so god damn much, damn what an ass, enough already with the ass ass, ass ass boy, ass ass toy, jump on that ass, fist that ass, tongue dart the dark star, jason rhodes is an ass, me and my ass, growing up with my ass, hairy ass, smelly ass, fat as a rhino’s ass, big ass white bitches, trailer park ass, old ass, legal young ass, don’t be such an ass, monetizing your blog through the use of the word ass, google searches with ass, attention getting titles, attention getting ass, assghanistan, north carolina living, i come from a buggy, get in my buggy, mantra, meditation, buddhism, transcendental medication, professing to be wise, they became fools, facing the nation, 12 steps, incomprehensible demoralization, self effacing twits, mocking the readers, the moons over my hammy, ethan hawke, boys love boys ass that are over 18 of course. smash that ass with your tongue, faux outlandish, cliche driven mockery, waste of time topics, dude i want to kill you for wasting my time, becoming a slog even if you are human, human seo, human slog, slog, search engine optimization for dummies, copyrights for dummies, dummies for dummies, buggies for dummies, stupid is forrest gumpisms for dummies, i’m a big old dummy, i fuck chicks, i fuck chicks alot, chcks love to suck my ass

hhahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha

Its so much like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder, how I keep from going under

meth kills fast cars cheap thrills


I came across this letter on the internet in May of 2010.  At that time I felt an incredible affinity with the guy who wrote the letter to his wife.  I wish I could remember exactly where I found it.  It could have easily been written by me.  I’m not saying that in order to influence your opinion on this topic.  In fact , I am just curious what others think about the issue of drugs and society.  It’s definitely a complex and polarizing issue for most.  Surprisingly, I suppose, my experiences on all sides of this topic have given me a flexible open minded approach in a sense.  I have a hard time saying yes or no, black or white, right or wrong.  Drugs….many shades of grey.  That’s my best answer.  A copout?  100% LOL but…I just don’t think you can deny that its impossible to sum up this issue in a sentence, a paragraph, or even several pages.  What do you think?

dear charlotte…

i know you don’t want to believe this but i‘m not suffering in the slightest

it’s easy to write me off as drug addled and to send me your dramatic texts about not sleeping for a week because you are so worried about me.  and fair enough, i suppose i deserve that but regardless, i am not the same person.  i am different. and different for the better by far.  i’m on the road to a better place 100% for sure.
an open mind, a  friendly attitude, the knowledge that i can persevere under impossible circumstances, somehow hold on, and in the end come out alive and fully intact mentally and physically….these are nothing but states of mind.   but thoughts control your world.   period.  yes i think i am different then everyone else and yes i think i am special and that i am destined to make a direct, positive impact on the world by doing  something amazing and unique to me.  sounds stupid.  whatever. i realize fully that every single person in n.a. and a.a. would scoff 100% at that statement.  in fact, my guess is that the more militant n.a. nazi types would be using profanity laced, high decibel, somewhat frenzied speech to make it clear just how pathetic, self-deluded, idiotic, and dishonest i am to even have the nerve to pretend to be different in any way.
narcissistic maybe.  different? never.
and they will eat this next sentence up like a wino eats trash.
ha ha ha.  i can hear the “oh my fucking god”s and “this pathetic prick”s and the “who does this fucking creep think he is charlotte?”s now.  i’ve read material on quite a few crystal meth abuse oriented websites and it’s like a pattern.  on the blog portion where people write in to share their experience, strength and hope in the form of letters, it never fails.  as soon as a person writes in and freely admits to still using meth and tries to say anything whatsoever other then “i am a hopeless, hell bound addict, please help me before i destroy everything i come in contact with”, the bloodthirsty, incredibly hypocritical, judgmental, bible & big book thumping, cliché laden zealots jump all over him/her like a pack of wolves.
it’s terrifying actually.  lol.  i remember this one letter this guy wrote and he admitted using meth almost daily for two years.  he wrote an incredible, cogent and well reasoned thesis basically, on his experience with crystal. to be fair, he definitely did not advocate drug use, admitted freely that it ruins many lives and in general did not write even one sentence that could have been perceived as inflammatory, boastful, or slightly mocking the community he was addressing; namely recovering addicts and maybe the codependent types from their immediate family/friends.
now charlotte, you know i am a decent writer and i’m telling you like it is.  it was a good, solid 2-3 page document, written with a humble approach.  he simply explained his personal views and his actual journey. this guy got massacred.  he was ridiculed to the point that it was stupid. they just refused to read anything he had written once they saw the part about still using.  once that was out there, nothing, and i mean absolutely nothing he had to say had any credibility in the judgmental eyes of the people who responded to him with hatred and scorn.
it turned me off to the idea of organized treatment in a similar way that i am turned off by the idea of organized religion.  any approach that has “one size fits ALL” and refuses to give credence to individuality makes me want to vomit. i have no idea why but this bible verse from the book of romans “professing to be wise they became fools” comes to mind..  but of course you know me and i’m a bit of a scoffer in general. so when i saw the way that they picked this guy apart, i was over it before i even finished reading the first barb filled response.
the guy was basically asking for advice and said that he gets benefits from using and that thus far in his life, the benefits (delusional or not) that he still receives, compensate for, and, in fact, still overshadow whatever negative consequences he has had to face. and like i said, i read his letter in detail a couple times, and what he was saying, i could totally see as being truthful and realistic.  he actually asked what the others thought, if they could give him some direction, asked if he needs to quit or at least slow his roll, asked if he was an addict (he didn’t believe that he was—fully, anyhow) etc.  basically a guy wanting to tell his side of the story.  clearly he wasn’t at  the point where he could totally relate with addicts who had hit the bottom and were totally fucking out of control.
he wasn’t out robbing, cheating and manipulating everyone and everything to stay high. that’s not to say he wouldn’t end up there nor was he claiming a miracle approach to using that allowed him to be different then everyone else, special or unique.  he made sense though, you know what i mean?  that’s what really got them all so fucking pissed  because he did give some guidelines that he used for staying one step ahead of the drug overtaking his life.  things like drinking water, not using everyday, going to sleep everyday, staying in his social scene, family scene, being employed, exercising, having varied interests and activities, eating plenty of healthy food, taking care of his teeth and hygiene, stuff like that.  and he was asking for some more similar guidelines and just the point of view of some people who knew better etc. well, his point of view did not sit well with anybody.  they tore him a new asshole and quickly dismissed him as an untrustworthy, pathological liar, and a deluded addict who was out of step with reality and doomed.  not one positive word, no encouragement, no welcoming explanations on why his approach, though sincere, was still misguided….nothing.  the guy probably went out and hung himself after reading the barrage of personal attack laden hate mail that he received in the way of responses.
this from a bunch of addicts who obviously had forgotten what its like to be one themselves.  he admitted he was still using you see and he gave common sense principles that worked to delay him reaching that level of hopeless addict and he was ridiculed hugely for doing that.? speaking for myself i was pissed off because of how damaging i think their attitudes would be to someone who was wavering.  not that i was wavering ha ha ha fuck that shit but IF i would have been and i saw that i wouldn’t be wavering EVER and i know a lot of kids feel the same way.  its like if you don’t conform to their dogma that your life is so hopeless and unmanageable that you can’t live without “keep coming back it works if you work it” then you should be cast out and ridiculed.  a big reason people use drugs  in the first place is that whole rebellious, anti authority thing, not wanting to be a square and all that.  reacting  like the guy was satan made me feel even more rebellious.  i was like “if this is what you get when you get clean then i wanna stay dirty baby”.
exclusion because you are different……….  how is that approach pragmatic?  the only reason they attacked is because of the fatal mistake the guy made when writing his letter.  he gave an ALTERNATIVE option that didn’t revolve around the principles of narcotics anonymous and EVEN worse didn’t force a person to abstain completely if they chose not to.  and that’s what i hate about twelve step programs in general.  again, you know me, and the whole “it’s my way or the highway” doesn’t sit well with me and in fact makes me do the opposite most of the time.  i’m not the only one. believe me i know that they reacted so strongly because they didn’t want anyone who had already decided that their shitty lives had become unmanageable to change that decision because of this dude’s words and come to the conclusion that maybe they could possibly go back to using and control it.  delusional thinking for sure and not a good idea by any means.  however, the bully tactics employed by those who responded to this guy did way more harm then good.  you could tell they felt super threatened by this seemingly harmless guy and his calm and reasonable approach to the situation.
i truly hope you never take the zealots approach to your treatment and recovery.  far better to be flexible in every area of your life and use the knowledge you have gained in rehab and in meetings etc to form a living, breathing, powerful, and INCLUSIVE set of guidelines for sustained recovery from addiction.  to give you a perfect example i’ll just say this, the responses i read all reminded me of my hypocritical brother, a guy who gets fucking wasted, pisses on peoples couches, does shit loads of cocaine and then deigns to give me advice on me and my fucked up life to a point where you just want to vomit at the hypocrisy.   enough said.
hysteria in any form either from an addict or the cured set, is ugly and scary.  please don’t harden yourself ever, to the realities faced by people who are out in the world with nobody to share their lives with, unhappily existing in a vacuum without an iota of faith that their life has a chance of becoming fulfilled and happy. sure that fucking marine drill sergeant approach may bring some hardcore addicts in for treatment.  long term though, intolerant ranting type name calling and angry tirades will push away the people who really probably have the best chances of success.  i’m referring to people who are considered as “functioning addicts”. lol, i’m too much of a coward to send my letter into the website so i am addressing my complaints with your community in a more personal way, one on one with my ex wife lol..you should make it your mission to come up with some groundbreaking way of solving my issues.  that would be awesome and it would help a lot of people because i’m positive that many people out in the world would agree with my point of view number one and number two belong to that “functioning addict” group, and still possess enough individuality and strength to veto any treatment option that is going to talk down to or ridicule them.
only fucked up, rogue, third world piece of shit, hellhole countries with despotic tyrannic leaders  rule their people by eliminating the brave souls who dare to voice a contrary  opinion.  ever hear of the khmer rouge?  google it.    charlotte you need to bring n.a. out of the dark ages, they are using methods of governing their people that are also used in  iran, china, north korea, haiti, africa,   i think you are amazing enough to actually pull n.a. out of the twentieth century and into the modern world. anyway i remain yours,

 

toby

check out this site:  http://www.kci.org/

Brenda Bayne might roll over in her grave if she knew that her grandson Anthony Mandich used her image in such a way!! Hahahaha I love you granny!

By the way, if you read that letter and you thought that it was written by me, its because it was.

You won’t have Internet soon because you are a scumbag.


Anthony Mandich wonders why this cloud keeps following him around

The title of this post is an excerpt from an actual email I received from a female companion of mine from the past.  Yes, we were sexually involved.  Ha ha ha, I’m not too sure what conclusion you can draw from that but it was fun to type…

For those who were expecting this post to be Part II of my series, People Who Died:  Roll Call, I’m sorry to let you down.  I will keep everyone informed on how I am going to approach that series once I make a decision.  What I’m starting to think is that I may be breaking it down to the point where I will only have one person featured per post.   That way I can really get into some juicy ass details on each person I write about without feeling like I’m under pressure to cut my flow of thoughts off prematurely.

Anthony Mandich says, "Cloudy days are not helping me get tan"

The first part of that series, I talked about five people.  Four of them were totally good people and one was a scumbag killer fat piece of shit named Joel Brown.  The only reason I’m mentioning him now is because he was a real scumbag.  I mention this for the benefit of the special individual after whose letter to me I’ve graced the title of this post.  I’m no scumbag.  People that rob pot dealers and take all of their money, weed, other assorted valuables as well as MURDERING THEM are scumbags.  If you weren’t such a soft ass you would realize the difference but your sheltered, elite upbringing behind the Orange curtain has left you with the common sense of a pet bunny rabbit.  Hopefully you will never be exposed to the true scum of this earth.  You can however read about them on sites like People You Will See in Hell where you will find that your perception of  what a scumbag I am is pretty fucking far from reality. \

I ran

It’s 2:02 a.m. Friday, March 25th, 2011 as I write this.  I am definitely in the mood to get right into a good little story but unfortunately I have to take off right now.  I’m going to pick up my friend Heather McGovern who just got off of work at Michelle’s bar in Corona, California.  We are going to go check out some late night casino action, probably at Pechanga Casino.  Neither of us really have any money but we have a good time generally, when we hang out so…..I’m off to see the wizard.  I’ll continue this later.

Shoooo mini rain cloud!!! Get the fuck away lol! Says Anthony Mandich

7:46 a.m. now and I just got home from Pechanga Casino.   Do I have a dollar in m my pocket that I didn’t have before?  I’d  be fronting, I’d by lying if I said I made a score.  Yikes, I’m in this rhyming, sing song frame of mind because I was making up insulting hip songs about this guy Joey Rausa on the drive home.  I’m hoping that none of my family members read this particular post actually, because, Mr. Rausa is definitely persona non grata to my family, excluding me.  They all hate him for reasons I understand conceptually but have a difficult time empathizing with overall.  Reason being, I was never around these parts when Joey had his heyday with my sister Natalie.  Oh, I guess I need to back up and tell you that Natalie, my sister who is now residing in a heart shaped urn on one of the shelves in my mother’s house in La Quinta, California, and Joey the bald headed boy

Anthony Mandich doesn't like cloudy days but they seem to be a constant thing!

wonder were involved in an over the top, soap operaish type relationship for years and years.  She left her husband Mitch, again for reasons I’m not completely familiar with, probably about 13 years ago or something like that.  To be blunt, he bored her to tears.   That’s basically how she broke it down for me.  While she was still alive I really didn’t have anything to do with him at all. When I got back from New Zealand in May of 2008 the two of them were broken up…..ish.  I know she did still see him but she tried to keep it a secret thing for the most part rather then risk the condemnation of my family.  My mom, especially, was very anti Rausa and she erupted like a mini volcano at the mere mention of his name.   You know what I’m going to stop with this line of thinking right now but I promise you that I have pages and pages of future ramblings that you will be privileged enough to read about at some point.

On the way back from the casino just now, I was thinking rather heavily about this blog and what I want to do with it.  I have so many crazy fucking stories to relate and I really want to write them all out via this blog and then at some undetermined future point, put the whole ball of wax into some sort of publishable form which will lead to my fame,  fortune and notoriety.  I’ve got tales of punk rock decadence, skateboarding insanity, sexual debauchery in the extreme, chemically induced memories of many different geographical locations, bartending adventures, poverty level survival stories, extremely high variance gambling tales, sad tales of loss and defeat, as well as against all odds tales of notable achievements and glorious victories and I suppose at the end of the day many many stories involving the one constant in everything I write about.  Me.  Anthony J. Mandich.

Stay tuned I hope you do.  I’m going to try and stay alive long enough to not only get all of the old stories out but also hopefully long enough to consolidate all this shit into one of those fairy tale redepmtion feel good miracle comeback stories that will leave all of the females damp with their desire to take me under their pendulous busty wings and squeeze me hard enough to make my big head explode.  Lofty goals.  Good times.

Gonna go now and see if I can’t get my garage sale going even though presently we have “inclement” weather conditions.  Nothing can stop me lol.  I’ll probably have a double posting day to be honest so lets use this one as a little appetizer for the main course to follow in a dozen hours or so okay?  Have a good Friday children…..

Mandich