MI7®

. . .and went an got me one a them MySpace Music thangs.

 http://www.myspace.com/doghouserileyhisownself  

There's lots a foolishness and my own bucolic visage to stare lovinly at, ifn ya got a mind to.  Although why you would I could not say.  Or could I?

. . .cause as any dunderhead knows, and thank gawd almighty for it, science keeps strippin away the layers of myth and mysticism where we're almost to the point that even a "big-selfed" entity such as my ownself won't, with any confidence whatsoever be able to even think about thankin gawd almighty, let alone sayin it.  But folks is still comin up to me on an almost daily basis and sayin, "Hey, Doghouse Riley,  I understand all that but what about your "such-ness"  or your "thus-ness"??  Explain that away with a smart-alek comment or somethin.  Ain't ya even in touch with yor own interiority??  Hell, I bet ya are and don't even know it.  Or, more likely, won't admit it.  Why are ya such a dang contrarian all the damn time?  What good does it do ya?  To which I usually reply, wail my interiority is as shabby as the next fellers which means a good vaccumin wouldn't hurt but my "such-ness" is the same as yors. . .non-existent, you numbnuts!!  Listen (I usually go on), I ain't got a shovel big enough to dig out from under that pile of bull.  And neither do you.  And don't go startin any tangential shit about captive synapse energy fields neither or I'm liable ta kick ya in the nuts.  Course, I say that with love.

Discuss. . .

. . .so I've put a dang song up on my "profile thang".  Yea, it's surreal as always.  What'd ya expect?  So listen if ya must, I cain't help what you'll thank.  Dont' say I didn't warn ya.  And just to keep this here blog thang honest my daily golden orb of wisdom is:  if ya ever hear it, don't be alarmed by the phrase,"nine foot up a bulls behind".  That there means it's about the best. . .and richest. . .food you may ever eat in yor entire life.  So, eat it!  Ya won't be sorry.  Honest.

. . .ain't skeeters awful!  I mean plain unadulterated ugly awful.  No excuse awful.  Proof there ain't no such a thang as god or nothin awful.  Unless, a course, he or she is one extremely tortured ol jokester.  But, listen, I got a heads up fer ya.  Are ya ready?  Well, are ya?  OK, here goes.  SKINTASTIC!  I know, it sounds more like somethin I'd say about a mix or somethin (only I'd say DANG instead of SKIN) but what it is is a spray bottle of what I'm sure is cancer causin toxic sludge that smells real purty and ain't oily or greasy or nothin that. . .they say . . .(and you know as well as I do what and who they are) will flat drive the skeeters away.  As they used to say (another they not the they I was talkin about in that last sentence) "they (now we're referin to the skeeters not either one of the theys we was talkin about earlier) don't bite. . .they won't even lite".  And you know what?  It's absolutely true.  At least as far as I'm concerned.  And that comes direct from someone (me, Doghouse Riley) that (apparently) is the exact temperature of a cow.  That's right, I said a cow!  That's what them skeeters love to bite.  And I guess I'm the next best thang.  I ain't been able to sit out on my deck come the evenin and enjoy a martini (or three) since it got hot over here in the bad (formerly good) ol USofA.  But now I can.  And now you can too!!  No need ta thank me.  Thank SKINTASTIC!!  But, hey, don't go askin what's in it. . .ya don't want to know.

. . .ya probly don't mind gettin dirty or nothin.  And fleas, a course.  But listen, you invited me over here so I cain't be held responsible for any worry-wartin I might do.  Like what is the rattyassed deal with the "gear" button thang?  I mean I'm perfectly willin ta leave some sort of look-see at my stuff but all I get is this cockamamie list ta pick from.  And that ain't happenin, junior.  And there ain't even one Swinette or Swinette manufacturer listed!!!  Nowhere!!!  I got more gear than you can shake a stick at.  Not that you'd want to or nothin, that's just an expression.  Hell, I'm tryin as hard as I can to get shut a most of it.  Cause although I thank outside the box I like to produce in it.  And that there "tag" thang.  Lord, don't get me started on that.  That there's about as useless as tits on a boar hog.  And it didn't even come out like I typed it.  And who cares anyway.  Not you, that's for sure.  But ta end on an up note, (That there is what they call a literary device.  Honest.) I been crusin and perusin a lot of the music by the folks here at MI7 and guess what?  No really, guess?  Well, OK, I'll tell ya;  a whole lot of it is purty dang good!!  Not all of it, mind.  But a purty good chunk.  In fact my hat would be off to many of the talented ol fellers and gals here, ceptin I don't wear a hat.  I guess you'll just have ta do with an ol tail wag instead.