Welcome to the world of the Boner in Sweat Pants…

Be forewarned.  You are about to enter a world that once seen through the eyes of one’s mind, can never be returned from. 

Dipshits in spandex, assholes with faces, strippers with dementia: What do they have in common?  They all religiously perform a ritual that to them, would be referred to as “working out.”  To this semi-professional erect one, however, its been more appropriately titled ”Jackassturbation.” 

The line in the song, about being blind, but now can see, well as it turns out that’s not just a line from The Bible (As Told By Guys with Famous Mustaches.)  I just don’t think we’re using the same mirror.  Boners don’t discriminate, and they don’t hate or cause any harm (that matters).  And I’m not saying that because I DON’T want to introduce you to the inside of my spraypaint can full o’ mace, pepper spray, or anything else that can properly express my gratitude for makin’ me look so awesome.  Chicks dig me because you exist.    Like any “special” love child who worked his way just under the ”Fat-But-Can-Still-Wipe-My-Own-Ass” mark would impress you, they can be ridiculous, and bizarre.  Fascinating, but loveable, just not in a very loving sort of way.   Sometimes the boners that accidentally hit you in the forehead can be very guy-next-door-ish… if you happen to live in or around Westwood, Kansas.   It could be your dad, your brother, son, cousin or Aunt Lily-Chester.  It could be your mom, sister, aunt, girlfriend, or manservant.

It could be your Uncle Ramon dressed up as your aunt’s belly dancer’s manservant, but only on days that end in “y,” and not Flag Day.  Or Chanukkah.

Doesn’t matter.  They’re all there at some point over the past 7 years.  Many are repeat, often daily offenders of every social misconduct that could possibly exist.

There’s a “wet area” that consists of a jacuzzi, sauna, steamroom and indoor, heated pool.  There’s also a dude that, legally, I cannot name–not because I give a shit about protecting his identity…(every person who has a clue what I’m talking about would know who I’m talking about) and yes, his first name does happen to be James, and his last name does rhymes with Deez…………Nutz! 

Sorry, song just jumped into my head about this fairy-tale, studio gangsta, who was ”rollin’ down the street, smokin’ endo, sippin a cold Butt’ry Nipple.  Laid back, with his mind on his weiner and his weiner on his mind.”  

But that’s all to come…soon…it’s already late, and has already made me a little bit crazy, they tell me.  Or told me.  Today.  So stay tuned for reality tv, with words, and waves…right here in the heart of good ol’ Kansas City!

Bitch, You Can’t Play Hitler’s Harmonica!

 I suck at returning phone calls.  Worst ever.  I know that, and I’m not proud of it, but really, I don’t like talking that much. 

One of my favorite dudes ever, on the other hand, doesn’t really fancy e-mailing or texting, and that doesn’t make for frequent updates between the two of us.  I’ll be a son of a bitch though if I didn’t get a e-mail from my boy the other day, and damn was it good to hear from him!  Ladies and germs, I want to tell you about my good buddy Jon Lovitz!  You see me and Lovitz played in one of the greatest bands ever to grace the midwest together, and we were the masterminds behind it.  Think I’m fucking around?  I’m not.  We were big.  Got to play with groups like Blues Traveler, G Love and Special Sauce, The Samples, bands you’ve heard of, so we weren’t any type of scrubs.  Shit, most of you probably were fans of ours.  Anyway,  Lovitz was one of the more talented dudes I ever played with.  He was damn good.  And while we’re on the subjects of pimps like Liberace, I figured what better time to let you guys in on a little lesser known talent, who is also an actor.  You might remember him from Howard the Duck and shit.  Anyway, what you didn’t know was that he was the front man of our group, and even after the rest of us got sick of being awesome, Lovitz when on to further his career, first in Chicago, then down to Austin, TX, and now, as of recently, after numerous albums, the best of which I performed on (serious), he has finally retired.  But we can’t let that shit happen Boner lovers.  He’s way too good, both at songwriting, and as a singer.  I guarantee you he’s better than any bitch whose ever been on American Karaoke, I mean Idol.  Fuck, I think if you Google our shit, you can still hear some of our old songs.  It’s time for some new songs though Lovitz.  You hearin’ me my man?  Your career isn’t over yet.  I want songs about boners in sweat pants, rat tails and mustaches, dudes who exercise in jeans, dudes who like to sport a fat bulge every now and again.  C’mon, what do you say ol’ buddy?  Write me up a little diddy about one of those topics, and let Bisp fans all around the globe get a chance to experience a little audible slice of heaven.  You hear me Lovitz?  I’m talking to you.  That, and I need to talk to you about some other important shit.  For real.  Since I hate talkin’ on the phone though, I think I’m just gonna make a trip up to Chicago to talk to you face to face.  I got the opportunity of a lifetime for you, and I want to tell you all about it.  Check your calendar and find a good weekend to come up there, spot me the money for the flight, and let’s do it!  Seriously though, I want all the rest of you to check out Lovitz and his music.  I don’t know if this site is still up or not, but try going to www.theeverydaypeople.com and see if you can sample some clips.  Then if you like it, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do about getting a personally signed autograph of the following picture for anyone who wants one:

  

Liberace: Pimp, Legend, and One of the Weirdest Dudes I’ve Ever Seen.

I can’t say that I know a whole lot about this fellow, this legendary-pimp named Liberace, but I can certainly say that I’ve long been fascinated by his weird-ass.  To be honest, I didn’t even know what kind of music he played, only that I hated it.  His whole schtick always seemed a little bizarre to me, but when I decided to do a little digging into the closet of the man behind the man, behind the man, I was shocked at how much I may have underestimated the number of people that fuckin’ loved this pimp.  Now I want some validation here from my gay friends.  The ones who I know might be reading this, and whom I all love dearly, especially J-Earl the Cat with the Curl, aka Mr. Got Rocks– who we should all pay our respects too for being one of Kansas City’s most legendary pimps–He probably partied with Liberace himself, he is still kickin’ ass, and come this September will turn an astounding 70 years, which is fucking amazing.  Anyway, you guys cannot tell me that there were a whole hell of a lot of straight guys that contributed to making this guy as big as he turned out to be.  I mean, would Barry Manilow, Clay Aiken, Babs Streisand or Bette Midler made it without the support of mostly gay men.  Shit, you guys made these people huge, and that’s great, but Liberace?  He just seems a little odd, doesnt’ he?

Nevertheless, he is also fascinating as fuck.  J-Earl, I know you could tell me some stories about this dude, and I remember the one you already have.  I’m concealing your identity, so I hope you don’t mind if I share it with everyone else, but apparently Ol’ Libby had this strange fetish where he would like to get underneath a glass coffetable, and then have dudes sit chapless on top of the coffee that he was under, and proceed to take a shit.  Guys, I’m not making that shit up just to try to be funny.  I’m being totally serious, and I believe my source 100 percent.  J-Earl, as I said, was a HUGE pimp all the way through the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and just decided to retire from pimpin’ in the 90s.  He definitely wouldn’t make this shit up about the Libster.  Just look at that get up.  Gay or straight, I can’t think of anybody who doesn’t think that get-up he’s got on is one of the most amazing things they’ve ever seen.  And that pose he’s sportin’ in this picture.  Does it get any better than that?  Honestly: Perfect hair, sweet ruffled-shirt, but what takes the cake is what he’s doing with his hands.  Is that a natural pose for dudes who sport that much bling?  Again, I know J-Earl would know the answer to that.  Sheeeeeeet, he doesn’t look too far off from Big Ern McCracken (but not the one most of you are probably thinking of).

 

Was this dude not thought of as being the slightest bit over the top?  I just know that when I am getting ready to leave the house, and I need to be the slightest bit presentable.  I might pop on something like what my man Libby is sportin’ over here, look in the mirror, and think “Perfect! Muthafuckas know who’s gonna be gettin some pussy tonight!”  “Boy, I’m lookin’ gooooooooooooooood!”  I would either think that, or I’d try to talk one of my friends into wearing it, in an attempt to make them think they look completely off the fucking chain!  I think I could probably do it too.  Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve always had a very dry and sarcastic sense of humor.  I, of course, thought I was hilarious, but for the ones that didn’t really understand the concepts of irony or sarcasm, they just thought that I was a complete fucking asshole.  Even today, I find myself saying something with a totally straight face, dead serious look in my eyes, and be 100 percent, completely fucking around.  Then I’ll realize this person doesn’t know me well enough to know I’m joking, and well, whatever.  My point is, well fuck my point.  I guess I don’t really have one.  So to wrap things up, and in honor of today’s featured pimp (in what will be a periodic, but ongoing series of Pimp Biographies), I will leave you with a little unknown information about just how big, exactly, Mr. Liberace actually was:

Liberace (born Wladziu Valentino Liberace) was the most flamboyant, popular easy listening pianist of the ’60s and ’70s by a wide margin.  I guess this means that the 60s and 70s had a real thing for flamboyent, popular, easy-listening piano.  Horrible.  Anyway,  his campy, theatrical appearance and performances often disguised his prodigious talent.  Talent  for things other than just the piano, but piano being the only one we’ll focus on.  Instead of following the accepted path of classical recitals and university courses, Liberace chose to be a showman. At encores at his concerts, he began playing novelty songs like “Mairzy Doats,” which is a novelty song that I’m unfamiliar with, and hope to keep it that way.  To ensure that he had widespread appeal as an entertainer, he took elocution lessons in order to mask his Polish accent.  Call me crazy, but I’m sure doing away with the Polish accent was what really put him over the top, giving him “widespread” appeal.  Right.

 Liberace became a star in the ’50s, both through his records and assorted television and film appearances. His appearance and repertoire was becoming increasingly campy, as he dressed himself in rhinestone, gold lame, furs, and sequins while playing everything from Gershwin and show tunes to lounge jazz and light classical pieces, with a candelabra placed on his piano.  Damn, show tunes, my favorite!  Ok guys, now here is the best part: Though it was a heady time for the pianist, 1956 was also the year that his star began to dim somewhat. Cassandra, a columnist for the English tabloid The Daily Mirror, inferred that Liberace was homosexual. He sued the paper and won, yet he still made an effort to tone down his appearance. However, the public didn’t want a subdued Liberace and he reverted to his kitschy showmanship in the early ’60s.  Now am I missing something here.  Reporter infers that he’s homosexual, and he sues?  For what?  Was this guy actually claiming to be straight?  That’s what it sounds like to me, and if he says so, then how in God’s name could anybody have actually accussed him of that.  That is an OUTRAGE!

Liberace didn’t have any more pop hits in the ’60s,’70s, and ’80s, yet he continued to sell out concerts around the world and sell a number of records, even though he never earned the favor of the critics. In 1982, a former chauffeur and bodyguard sued the pianist for palimony; the case was settled out of court. Liberace remained a celebrity and a popular performer until his death in 1987.  So there you have it folks.  A little history lesson on one of the most famous, weirdest dudes on planet earth.  Stay tuned for the next installment of the Boner Biography Series: All the important shit they never taught you in school.   Next up, I’m deciding between Richard Simmons and Michael “Jacko” Jackson.  Y’all stay hard now ya hear!