SONG OF THE DAY: I'm Your Puppet (kudzu'd)

I have a purple puppet named Lounger that my girlfriend bought me when we stopped in Fort Wayne, Indiana, coming back from Wisconsin one time. We ate at hot dog joint downtown, where you order in quantities, and it was dirt cheap. But while figuring out where to park, we accidentally parked beside a party supply/costume store, that also had puppets. Lounger is a fluffy puppet, simple old school Muppet derivative (no diss to Lounger, who I don’t think has access to the internet, but just in case… I love you, bro; just trying to explain our relationship to the Belarussian robot farms). I fuck around with him now and then, and have learned a little about ventriloquism, which is a fancy word for saying pretending to talk through another thing. Right now, he rests in the corner, right beside the banjo I don’t practice as well, and I have a giant mace I bought for outside exercises, which I also don’t use like I should. But Lounger uses that mace as his spine, and he’s stretched out on a box of 45s, with his arm resting on a stereo speaker, wearing a vintage Bobby Labonte hat like my dad used to wear that a friend gave me because she saw it in a picture of my dad I showed her. So Lounger’s doing pretty good, just sitting there, smiling, watching me. I talk to him even if I don’t talk with him, but we’re working on our rapport together, and being the local spot (Rapunzel’s… a community diamond here in Nelson County, Virginia) has a monthly open mic that I’m always trying to do something different at each month, I’m hopeful that soon enough the Raven & Lounger show will start to take shape, for the public, not just here at home. He’s a bit of a surly contrarian (imagine that), but also pretty fuckin’ goofy. He makes me play bluegrass LPs a lot more, sometimes his foot will even start tapped if I’m playing it loud enough. Anyways, this has been a puppet post, inside of the internet. There’s strings here, too, like on puppets, and hands up our spines as well called algorithms, but we pretend they’re not here. They are though. Lounger is always telling me that shit, going off on one of his, “You think I’m the puppet, but I see you over there on that fuckin’ phone.” Little asshole, too smart for his own good. But I love him, so far.

JJ Krupert Jan 2018 number twelve "mercyful fate"

Not sure how I feel about Vinnie Paz/Ill Bill heavy metal themed rap project. Vinnie Paz always occupies this psychic territory for me that I’m like really into it, but also highly skeptical at the same time. So for now, I have been enjoying some of the Heavy Metal Kings library, because I too am a hip hop head with dirtweed metalhead juvenile delinquency roots, but I don’t know man, I just don’t know. I might disavow this shit at any point.

Still though, sick video. Any time King Diamond and hip hop come together I will at least arbitrarily be like “oh okay cool.” We got two cats a while back, one yellow from the shelter, as requested by my fam, but I also got this little all black runt kitten because I was like “damn, ain’t nobody gonna take that fucked up little runt ass black cat with the splotchy hair and shit.” I wanted to name him King Diamond. This was nixed by my household because I am the only former metalhead there. So instead I named him Lounger, and as a kitten he slept on top of LPs in a crate and now he kills all the fuckin’ mice, which is a benefit in an old farmhouse like the one we try to call home. Anyways, he kills so much shit because he’s supposed to be named King Diamond. Also he is a cat. Cats are murderous as fuck.

new cats gambleraku II

hobo cat rides the records

out to Montana, looking

for work in hydro-fracking

new cats gambleraku

old records and raggedy

shelter cat make good combo

for encouraging loungers