“We’re All Goin’ On A Summer Holiday”

“No more workin’ for a week or two

Fun and laughter on a summer holiday

No more worries for me or you

For a week or two”

(From the imagination of the most brilliant band of all time:  Cliff Richard and the Shadows)

Much like mes amies, les Francais, I, your Beloved, and Revered, Leader, decided to reward myself with the month of August off on vacation.  This was to be spent in joyous celebration of my pending 50th birthday (perhaps your Beloved, and Revered, Leader will be granted a stamp commemorating this momentous event too) and also just because it sounded like one fine fuckin’ idea.

So knackered out from a lifetime of working for The Man, since even I, your Beloved, and Revered, Leader, answer to someone, I packed up for a summer vacation of travelling incognito rather than as a part of a royal progress through the kingdom.  In other words I travelled on my own dime, on my own time. First off was a trip to visit the dowager Mrs. Beloved, and Revered, Leader, aka “mum”, in Palm Springs where as Number One Son I was tasked with laying garden paths and creating a rose garden.  It was all very hot and sweaty and at the end it all looked good.

postage stamp

Then it was off to the UK to visit the vast number of friends from Comprehensive School that turn fifty either in September or October.  Evidently the winter of 1962 was exceedingly cold and as a result of either the extreme weather, or inferior socialist condoms, (don’t laugh but the word “accident” has been heard uttered several time relative to my conception) there are a great many of us.

Part of the trip was to make a pilgrimage to White Hart Lane and pay homage to the Beloved, and Revered, Leader’s favourite football team Tottenham Hotspur.  There is not time or space to mention all of the suffering that your Beloved, and Revered, Leader has undergone at the hands of Spurs over the years nor can I mention what I would really have liked to do to the board of directors at various times during each and every season since I was seven involving a line, a wall and a firing squad.


However what was most disturbing was the footwear of the Spurs players:  soccer cleats in Lurid Pink, Cerise, Tangerine and Mello Yello.  It seems that for the past ten years, black cleats are too old school.  They are just too boring.  In my day … no, that just sounds like I am a cranky 50-year-old has-been waiting for someone to ask about the soccer career of your Beloved, and Revered, Leader.

But I will say that I wore black cleats and I wore black indoor football shoes (and still do, as your Beloved, and Revered, Leader rocks the “Old Skool” Sambas).  Any player who thought to play with the players I played with would need to have world-class skills to match any vivid colour football boots they chose to wear.


Your Beloved, and Revered, Leader has no issue if players as talented as Christiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi choose to wear football boots in colours that are usually only seen on salmon lures.  But the right to spice up your life needs to be earned.

Perhaps it should be like a medieval guild and apprentices only get black boots, white logos and black laces, journeyman players get coloured logos, a craftsman can add coloured laces and only a master craftsman can wear something so lurid that even a stripper says “fuck off, that’s just too flashy”.  I wore Lotto boots that were black with orange and blue logos and orange laces and that would be appropriate for the caliber of player that I was at the level I was playing.


But most of all, it pisses off your Beloved, and Revered, Leader simply because the pretty colours do not match the rest of the football kit and this offends me and really triggers my OCD.  It is like wearing black socks and brown sandals – but I, your Beloved, and Revered, Leader, have turned 50 now so this is alright (at least according to my father’s fashion tastes).  But the young players in the EPL do not have this excuse on which to fall back.

And the real question that your Beloved, and Revered, Leader would want to ask is, truth be told, do the football boots clash with the club kit, or is it the club kit that is clashing with the overly decorative, visually alarming, high paying shoes from a sponsoring entity such as Nike or Adidas or Puma or Lotto or Diadora.  Perhaps your Beloved, and Revered, Leader has been wrong in his thinking and the tail is wagging the dog!

happy stalin

Bollocks!  I am your Beloved, and Revered, Leader!  I am infallible (and now I am 50 too).

It Rolls Downhill, Can’ardly Make It Up!

“Every subject’s duty is the King’s; but every subject’s soul is his own”

― William Shakespeare, Henry V

Henry V

Greetings and salutations, members of the Proletariat:  it is I, your Beloved, and Revered, leader just dropping to ask “S’up?’ in a non-derisory manner that allows you to think that I am one of you (but just more Beloved and Revered).

Every day I mingle with my minions a la Henry V to seek out whether they are appreciative of the mundane aspects of their trivial lives, if they are content to revel in their mediocrity, and see what they think of JT’s new album (he is a righteous dude).  I do this while working on weapons of mass destruction alongside my “peeps”.


So while I was journeying home today with the lemmings, on their road to the inevitable cliff, I decided that I was in need of mental nourishment and diverted to the local library.  And after a quick sojourn to the biblioteque and being showered with flowers strewn by urchins and photographed “looking at things” like late lamented cousin Kim, I headed back to Xanadu and the Pleasure Dome that I, your Beloved, and Revered, leader call home.

On the way back home, however, the despotmobile was stuck behind a Prius.  Now, as munificent as I am, as all embracing of my people as I am, even as much as I care about the bunnies and the flowers as I do, nobody should drive a vehicle that is powered by three AAA batteries.


Don’t get me wrong, I, your beloved, and revered, leader loves the environment and I am looking forward to passing it along to the future dictatress for life when she assumes said mantle in the distant future.  But this vehicle was absurd and should have been called a Rolls Can’ardly as the speed it managed to attain was mainly gravity influenced.  We even got up to 15 mph at one point…..

And what is my point?  People who live in battery powered automobiles should ask what their batteries are made of (it’s not slugs and snails and puppy dog tails) and where the batteries go when they die.  Now that is off of Number One comrade’s medal bedecked (and hairy) chest, I, your Beloved, and Revered, leader can watch last night’s wrestling that was DVR’d…. I love the little Daniel Bryan: so tiny but so angry.  Yes! Yes! Yes!

daniel bryan

After The Glorious Revolution, MLS Game Officials Will Be First Against The Wall

Unless Someone Else Harshes My Autocratic Mellow (But Not Pussy Riot: They Rock)

It is I, your Beloved, and Revered, leader dropping by to say “helloooooooooooo” and to wax euphoric on the dystopian state of the world as I imagine it.  Now when oppressing the masses becomes just too much of a burden for such a sensitive, yet malevolent, soul and something less sadistic and more masochistic is needed, your beloved, and revered, leader climbs down from his throne and onto the Barcalounger and puts on the ultimate in self inflicted punishment:  a Portland Timbers game.

Even better, it was a road game “live from New York”.  And the bitter cherry on the top of the shit cake was the special promotion of the night – be an MLS referee for a game:  Jason Anno from Section 117, Row E, Seat 9 come on down and fit your pudgy little body into a not so slimming red referee uniform and just blow on the little whistle until the pea disintegrates….

Back in the dim and dark ages before the Beloved, and Revered, leader was, well, beloved and revered, he was quite a good footballer himself.  But even in the Cultural Revolution-like atmosphere of the Willamette League with its road trips to outlying rural regions by in an anonymous looking Ford Econoline van, no referee was as mediocre as the referee last night.

However, special kudos should be heaped on to the Timbers themselves.  If they could only harness the same self discipline for their defensive assignments and man marking that they do in not going ape-shit at yet another incompetent MLS match official, or retaliating on an opponent who cheap shots one of their teammates, they would have the best defense in the league.

In fact, in a moment of despotic brilliance, I, your Beloved, and Revered, leader, will send forth an expedition to locate a heart for the Timbers.  Perhaps the Tin Man is available to guide it – no, better yet, I will press gang him into leading the way:  unleash hell, release the shock battalion of flying monkeys.

Truly I have not seen such a farce since the last general election where I, your Beloved and Revered leader, only received 98% of the vote.  Perhaps Mr. Anno thought he was Earl Heppner refereeing at the Garden and Thierry Henry had actually slipped under the bottom rope and leveled Kai Kamura with a chair shot rather than the blatant Tim (I love playing with American officials) Cahill elbow to the jaw.

So now leadership responsibilities include putting match officials up against the wall.  But will I, your Beloved and Revered leader do this before the Hipsters and Engineers or after… so many autocratic decision and so little time.  Thank God that the season is nearly over….

“Everybody, Take The Day Off”

Words of wisdom from your Beloved, and Revered. Leader who is currently resting up from a hard morning fishing and getting ready to go check out some blues down by the river and hang with the people!

Despotic Thought For The Day: It Is Better To Suck Than Blow

It is I, your Beloved and Revered Leader, checking in with all of the little people in my life and to bring awareness to the world of another potential issue of mechanical malfeasance that has been noticed by yours truly (your Beloved and Revered Leader).

It seems that the Central American dictators in the second floor palace above the abode of your Beloved and Revered Leader seem to be using a leaf blower to clean the floors in their palace rather than a vacuum cleaner.  At least this is what the noise and vibrations emanating from above seem to indicate. 

Either that or the younger brother of the deposed despot has modified their Hoover in much the same way he has modified his vehicle.  I can picture the vacuum now with blue LEDs, a coffee-can size muffler and some NOS.  The handle probably only works in the full on pimp slouch position while talking on a cell phone and wearing a Marc Ecko baseball cap sideways.

Oh well, at least it doesn’t have a stereo installed (yet).  BUM BOM BUM BOM BUM BOM BUM BOM.

And a special “Beloved and Revered Leader” shout-out goes to Cousin Vladimir in Russia.  It seems that the early returns show that he is once again setting records all over the country.  His performance in Dagestan is especially breathtaking in an area noted for its exceptional 98% voter turnout.  Exit polls showed that he was getting strong voter returns from the pet donkey, chicken and “people who died in the 1970’s” demographic.

Well done Vladimir, very well done indeed.  You serve as a noble example to all of us despots:  the Beloved and Revered Leader gives you his best wave of nom-denominational benediction.

A Few Words For My People

From your Beloved and Revered leader

Second Offence: You Get A Riding Lawnmower

Greetings and salutations most noble peasants and members of the Proletariat, 

So, your Beloved and Revered Leader was travelling on Interstate 5 South this morning in his one man motorcade:  de rigueur black SUV, of course, with tinted windows.  During the course of today’s journey, his searching for wisdom and enlightenment for all of his subjects was interrupted.  Naturally this cannot be allowed to happen, and while this is cause for great dictatorial concern, it is not so great of a concern as what was the root cause of the problem.  For those who know how to know, and want to know why more, the answer = 3 x why?   

Why was your Beloved and Revered Leader (I really feel that a gong must sound every time that is said (in hushed and reverent tones, of course)) shaken from his reverie?  It was because the motorcade of your Dictator for Life had the misfortune to get stuck behind a $100,000 Mercedes doing 40mph on the Interstate.

 Why was the Mercedes doing 40mph on the freeway?  That is a good question and it causes some dictatorial pondering and posturing and proselytizing.  Like all non-elected heads of state, this particular despot has a love of all things mechanically speedy – including the Mercedes Benz.  Therefore it was worrisome and vexatious to find such a fine piece of engineering being treated in such a cruel fashion. 

Why should such a situation exist?  And therein lies the rub.  If this person feels the need to subject such a fine piece of workmanship / art to such humiliation, then should not I, in my role as a most benevolent, father like figurehead of state, seek to redress the balance?

What is a benevolent despot to do?  What indeed?  What indeed? the solution, as I see it, is simple!  In the interest of all, and is that not what a beloved and revered leader is good for, is for the Mercedes to be gifted to the state and replaced with a 1989 Geo Metro.  I am sure that a suitable vehicle can be found; complete with dents, one broken headlight and a knackered out gerbil powering it up to 25mph on the freeway (downhill with a tailwind). 

It is the policy of this regime that no vehicle shall suffer abuse … especially the vehicle of the Beloved and Revered Leader when stuck behind an extemely expensive b ut slow moving piece of art.  If you wish to drive your vehicle like it is a Geo Metro, then the state should see to it that you get one to drive.  And now I shall return to my thinking great thoughts …. 

Despotic benevolence and love to all … 

Your Revered and Beloved Leader, etc. etc.

And It Shall Be Punishable ….

By Death!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <—— (Please note all of the exclamation points – that means that I am really serious here, people,)

Greeting Peasants,

It is I, supreme dictator (empahsis on dick) for life and here is Official Mandate For The People #1.

It will be instantly punishable by death for anyone to order more than two drinks at a time at any Starbucks.

Never again will I, your beloved and revered leader be forced to wait in line on a Saturday morning while some lady orders drinks for what seems to be half the crowd at Autzen Stadium.  This is a travesty and must be curtailed in the interests of public order and moral decency. 

 And how did I, your beloved and revered leader know that this misguided individual was heading to Eugene?  No-one would willingly wear that colour yellow unless forced to by a “yellow out”.  Maybe I shall have all political prisoners wear that colour yellow to shame them:  another time, another mandate.

Your beloved and revered leader has spoken.  Thus it written, thus it is done:  death to all people in line at Starbuck’s who order too many drinks.