Ballin in the windy city

I'm in Chicago right now. We rented out the ILLEST apartment I have ever been in. I will take pictures.

BE AFRAID

I really, really hate Rudolph Giuliani.
He is a sick person. He exploits horrors, he claims responsibility for other's triumphs, he is a hypocrite, he has no connection to humanity, to him poverty is a disease that can only be cured through decimation, he hates artists, he hates minorities, he set this city back socially twenty years. He filled the air with hostility between neighbors and hate between classes. He is an asshole.
I think about how horrible this last president has been. About the terrible things this country has done and how little we have gotten out of the 8 years.
Then I think about Giuliani as president. As hard as it is to believe, this man would be worst than the fool we have in office now. I guarantee you wars would wage and this nation would spiral to the dark ages.
This man turned New York City's Finest into pit bulls and that's something were still feeling today.
He took people off of welfare unless they worked like slaves, even if they were a credit away from a college degree.
This man denies that the volunteer workers at ground zero were never subjected to health threatening pollution. What he did with 9/11? Good god, don't even get me started. If he's gonna turn a tragedy into a cabaret at least do it with pazas. Watching him was like watching William Shatner rehearsing for a porno.
Jesus.
I hope with all my heart that this person never sets foot in the white house. If he does, I am moving. Where? Someplace warm.

Blogblock.

I"m sort of staring at a wall right now. Don't really have anything to say and the news was pretty boring today. Here, this will have to do:

BLAST YOU, INTERNET!

It's funny. A few years ago I often found myself tensing up and feeling short of breath when in shitty situations. I felt like doom was inexorable and thought that the wind's breeze was the proverbial breath of death gently tickling my nape. Some call them "Panic Attacks", I called them "Bug Outs". Whatever they were, they went away. I learned to stick my head between my legs as If I was attempting fellatio and thought about the beach. Problem solved.
UNTILL, of course, the assholes at Time Warner Cable ruined my life. Every few hours or so my Internet completely dies. So do the phones. Naturally, my entire family runs to me and I have to drop whatever I'm doing and fix it. Or try to. Whenever I see those lights flashing on my airport base, my blood grows thick and my heart starts racing a little too quickly.
Sticking my head between my legs and thinking about the beach doesn't really help.
Instead, I smoke a cigarette as I go out "to buy some milk" and sneak some whiskey in the coca-cola I bought because we don't actually need milk.
Today the Internet started working on every single computer except my own. I'm on some asshole's wireless Internet and it gets no reception anywhere except the coldest dustiest corner of my house.
Now, my computer has a sick sense of humor and likes to tell me that everything is sunshine and butterscotch when it ain't. That's why when I saw this image I had to take a picture and laugh.
I hope you appreciate it:

Sometimes, I hate Apple products.

p.s
If you haven't listened to my radio show you should. People seem to like it.

Kevin Gannon Radio

I am excited to announce that the first episode of the new Kevin Gannon radio show is FINALLY working. I hope.

Tune in and listen live right now! Just take a trip over to the sidebar
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and play that bitch.

Leave me comments if you like this or not. If enough people do I can make a Kevin Gannon hosted play list every month.
Now just sit back, relax and ride the sound waves into oblivion.

Things I always wanted...

...and never got.
Looking back at my childhood I had some cool shit. My folks were nice to me, people seemed to like me and I always had the new game consoles the week they came out. Now that doesn't seem like such a big deal, but back in the day to be the first person on your block with the new system (be it an NES, the N64 or Playstation 2) meant guaranteed cool points.
Still, there were some toys I yearned for but never got. I would beg relentlessly but always to no avail.
When watching television and the commercials came on, I would see the children playing with the object I wanted so terribly. I would see them smiling and giggling and practically inviting me into their blissful cathode world. All I needed was my parents to get me the ticket there. Unfortunately, the following are toys my Mother and Father never let me have. Toys I didn't even get to play with because my friends were all in the same dilemma. These toys represent my lost dreams...

1. Sock'em Boppers

A lot of people have the commercial's jingle memorized. I would say of those people, 80% of them have never touched a Sock'em Bopper in their life. I would also go as far to say that NO ONE ACTUALLY OWNED THESE FUCKING THINGS! I never met ONE person who did. Did you? Exactly.

2. Moon Shoes

Looking back at the commercial now I understand I would have been a tad underwhelmed with the Moon Shoes. Still, I can see myself having a lot of fun as a young boy convincing myself that I was jumping four feet higher than I actually was. I can also see my ankles snapping in half from this dangerous toy. Maybe it's best my parents didn't copp it for me...

3. Mr. Bucket

This puzzles me. I can find nothing wrong with this toy. It's happy, it promotes teamwork and it was only $20. I wanted it SO much and to make things worse, the commercial played ALL the time. Now why the fuck didn't my parents let me get this thing? There seems to be nothing wrong with it! Unless of course you take into account that the commercial says, and I quote: "The first to get their balls into Mr. Bucket wins, but look out! The balls will pop out of his mouth!" Maybe, just maybe, that had something to do with it.

4. Nickelodeon Sqand
I wish I could find the commercial, but for a while Nickelodeon made this shit that looked and felt like regular sand until it was submerged in water. Then it because a malleable silly putty like substance that could be shaped into great castles, horrid monsters or beautiful mermaids. When the Sqand was pulled out of the water *poof*, just like magic, it would be perfectly dry sand once again. Here is what it was like. This does not give it justice:


5. Tiger's Talkboy Tape Recorder

I don't have the strength to write about this. I just feel empty. I could have had so much fun...

6. Crossfire

My friend had this and I was so good at it. His sprayed the loser with water which made for an even more unnecessarily tense game, fueling even more hate into our young veins. One thing this commercial did not depict is the fact that a game lasted about an hour and it often took 20 minutes for either side to score a point.

I realize now that I have a void inside of me where theses toys should be. I think I'm going to buy the Moon Shoes and the Sock'em Boppers and go at a few rounds with my pals who didn't have these toys either.
I promise ill film it and put it up.
Also, if you feel bad you are more than welcome to buy me any of these things.

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
As a Gannon family tradition, we celebrate thanksgiving on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I don't know why, but it's what we do.
That always made for an interesting Thursday. I love Thanksgiving, but for me, Thanksgiving itself was never really on Thanksgiving. I get to watch the festivities on the television and read about it in the newspaper with a strangely detached attitude. It's actually very, very nice.
So, until my Thanksgiving rolls by I hope you have fun celebrating yours.
While you do, know I'm in Connecticut. Sipping on hot chocolate, reading a good book and listening to the soft tunes of Dr. Yo.
Enjoy.

Larrylicious

As you may know, yesterday was a tough day for me. Well, now I feel much better. I hung out with my cactus, Larry and I watered him. It was relaxing.
Life is back to normal. I'm digging the fact I have half a day of school tomorrow then get to escape to Connecticut for a bit.
Enough about me.
I want you to meet my dear buddy, Larry. I got him about a year ago It was the week before Christmas. I was in Chinatown buying my friends fake superman and poweranger toys inscribed with fragment sentences ("SUPERMAN COME TO SAVE WORLD!" was my favorite) and I saw a man selling cacti.
"Sir," I said. "How much for a cactus?".
I think it was something like 6 bucks. I bought one and took him home intending on giving it to a friend.
That night me and Larry really hit it off well. I decided to keep him and he has grown a solid five inches since then. Oh, Larry. I wonder what adventures lay ahead. Fun ones I hope.
Now meet my friends:

Don't ever leave me, bro. Don't ever leave me.

On the edge of the edge

I, dear readers, am minutes away from losing a very important battle.
For the past few weeks I have been victimized by an onslaught of pressures, deadlines, stale-routines and a general lack of satisfaction. I feel like I have been on autopilot for the past month and I just snapped out if it. My plane is nosediving into a playground of snot nosed kiddos and I (as pilot) am trying (very hard) to pull that phallic lever thing up. Not to save the kiddos. Oh no. To save me. And my Plane.
Homework's been a bitch. Going to school has been a bitch. It's dark whenever I get out of school. It's cold whenever I wake up and when I go to sleep (if I have the privilege). I'm tired of worrying (or pretending to worry) about colleges. I have late homework and unfinished or un-started films. I haven't been out on a Friday night in months. No more massive parties that I used to go to. At first I was really digging that and in many ways I still am. It's nice to get away from loud, drunken idiot teenagers for a while. A long while. Still, the transition is strange.
There isn't really a simple way of putting it: I'm tired. Mentally. Physically. I need to nap but my beds got sharp, dirty springs poking out.
What really pushed me towards the edge of the edge what happened to my camera today. Now, keep in mind, I have been Internet and phone less for a week. They finally started working but every hour or so the Internet turns off, my mother goes ape shit and I have to fix it. It's insane.
I thought my camera would be relaxing. I developed some photos today and came home to find my mother had found some old lenses kicking around. I was very excited to shoot some stress out through the ol' Pentax when to my horror I found that the poor thing had kicked the bucket. I don't know when, or how, but she just refuses to work.
I'm getting her fixed but that was the final draw.
Take my Internet, take my sleep, give me homework, break my phone, fail me, deny me, push me off the 6 train, overcharge me for a pack of cigarettes, tell me I'm too young to drink a beer then say "Nice shot" as I blow off an Iraqi kid's head, make my hands hurt from the cold, knot my hair up, read me the same headlines in different fonts for the rest of my life and shit on my face and say it's to make me a better person. Just don't ever, ever fuck with my cameras. That's just dick.
That message is for whichever god you worship.
Whew.
What a world...
I need to take a break. Out of the city, completly alone. Somehow.
It's that or:

FINALLY

Wow. The fools at AOL Time Warner left me without internet or telephone for four days. I would call and call and hear the same bullshit over and over again and eventually I just gave up. Things seem to be running back in normal order. Kind of.
One good thing about having no internet is the stupid shit that you do to keep yourself entertained. My pal Robbie Cline and I were stuck in my house on a friday night. We had to wait for my old man to come home because he had no keys. The following is a taste of what happened:

There is much, much more to come.
On a cool note, the "What Should I Do To My Hair" poll has closed. It was a close battle. Too close. It was a fucking tie. Thanks for voting anyway. You rule.

...and every student at Yale went "Oh shit"...

A study done in England has come to the conclusion that Ritalin doesn't do shit for kids with ADHD. If it has no medical purpose, it has no need to be on the market. In my mind, it dosen't seem that outlandish to just pull them off the shelves altogether. But wait, this poses a very, very serious question:
how will all the regular people get their work done?

Let's do a rain dance! Wait, nevermind, it's 2007

Recently the wonderful state of Georgia has been in a pretty gloomy situation: they are months away from completely running out of water. Simply put, people have (and excusably so) been going ape shit. I read on the drudge a while back that some guy killed his neighbor for watering his plants and restaurants won't serve water unless you ask or pay for it.
Now, the most disturbing thing is that apparently for the past couple years people have been saying: "Uhm, we should start conserving water. We might get deaded really soon..."
Knowing most of the loony Republicans who take the scientific method with a grain of salt, no one in Georgia did jack-shit. Well guess what? Now they are completely deaded.
If I were in charge I would say "My bad. Shoulda' paid attention to those guys in lab coats and done something. Well: now I will start and we can fix this problem".
Too bad I'm not in charge.
The Governor, Sonny Perdue, announced today that he's going to hold a massive prayer session between lawmakers and ministers on the steps of the state capitol. The topic: rain.

Now, there are two things with this that bother me:
1) The line separating church and state fading away faster than our nation's integrity
and
2) the fact that that it won't do anything.
It's time for those guys to buckle down. You want to know how to fix the problem? Two words: Kyoto Protocol .
Assholes.

Yes, William. Yes you are.

I'm somewhere in the backwoods of Connecticut right now. It's freezing cold and my folks pulled into a liquor store to stock up on some booze and hamburger meat. There is literally nothing in sight of this place except unending woodlands . That's why when I noticed I was getting a wireless connection I was so very surprised. Now, guess what this wireless connection is called?
"William The Pimp".
Now, guess what I was just listening to literally moments before this mysterious wireless connection popped up?

Strange?
Indeed.

I call on you for help...

I am sick and tired of my hair. It's been the same for too long, and frankly, I'm bored.
Part of me wants to cut it but another part of me wants to spice it up. Maybe a highlight or two of a groovy color, dye it altogether or (and my current favorite) a bleached skunk streak ala Sweeney Todd...
Well my dear friends I call on your knowledge for help.
And Please, be honest.

Kid Nation Footage + Bordem =

"HOLY BANANA BREAD!"
I fell in love with the line. I needed to make something out of it. And so I did:

Hoops...my bad.

Stockfootage + Bordem + Brass Bands =

this:

It seems I will do anything on a monday night except homework...

Gannon vs Lewis

Today I bumped into an old pal of mine in front of Quiznos. I haven't seen my dear friend since he knocked "Iron-Man" Mike Tyson the fuck out. He looks good and we sparred a little bit. Even after all these years he's still got one hell of a right hook.

"Hey Lennox...that's not the camera"...

RATS!

If you are ever around the lower east side I'm sure you are somewhat familiar with "Rat Alley" (also known as 1st street between 1st and 2nd). Filmmakers may know it as the home of Pac Lab. Pre-pubescent children may know it as the home of Cosi ("the hookah bar that doesn't card") and those just out of rehab may know it as the home of one of the dirtiest halfway houses in town. Once the sun goes down the entire block is claimed by hundreds of huge, fat, disgusting rats. They swarm across the sidewalk, climb on bikes and jump out of trashcans as you get from points A to B. Whenever I am with folks from out of town I'm so certain that there will be rats out that I say: "Wanna see RAT ALLEY?" and show them a good time.
Now, I don't really have anything against the rats: I live a safe four blocks away, I hate the people at Pac Lab, Cosi's was never my scene and I lack sympathy for the sex offenders biting hard on their lips whilst watching "Hannah Montanna" at the halfway house. One thing that always pissed me off was that this block also houses a playground.
As if overpriced film developing, vomiting teens and drooling pedophiles wasn't enough for these children, through some fucked up way of life they have to wallow round' in rat shit.
You may say: "Kevin, why do you tell me this tonight?"
My answer is this: Because tonight I start my vendetta.
You see, dear reader, this morning on my way to school I was walking down rat alley and I saw an older Spanish woman looking around pretty nervous. She opened her bag and tossed four ears of corn and three apples into the grassy part of the playground and started walking quickly. I remembered a few months ago there being birdseed allover the sidewalk in the same spot. I presumed some asshole chose the wrong spot to feed the birds, but oh no. Some asshole was feeding the rats. And I was gonna call her out on it.
I said: "Hey lady, what the FUCK do you think yer' doing?" (I'm good at picking fights with people who are weaker than me), "This is a playground and your feeding fucking RATS?"
She started to say "no" over and over again and picked up the pace. I told her she was a sorry excuse for a woman. I told her (while tossing around some very dirty language I know regret) that someone should sew rats into her stomach and watch as they eat her from the inside out.
She got away.
Starting tomorrow every day on my way to school I'm going to look for this woman. If I see her, I will take her picture. Once that is done I am going to post it up allover the neighborhood. I'm going to send it to the times, the police and even the department of health.
This bitch exposed herself in front of the wrong guy.
Now she's going down.

To the public:

As many of you know, I won the "Best Costume" award this Halloween for my "Dog The Bounty Hunter" get-up. It really was perfect.
The same day I received the good news I heard some more disturbing news. Dog is not the loving puppy we all thought he was. In fact, he is quite the opposite. Apparently, the guy lost it on his Son and left him a diatribe on his answering machine (Dog: you fucking idiot) dropping the "N" bomb on some Nagasaki status.
Long post short, I want nothing to do with a racist. I choose Halloween costumes to celebrate characters. I always dug Dog and his show but now I don't. I don't want a prize for dressing up as a bigot. So, tomorrow in school I will make an announcement. My title is being passed on to Alexander Feldman for the most accurate Six String Samurai attire he sported.
As for Duane "The Dog" Chapman:

Go fuck a cat.

I'm back!

Howdy everyone. You may have been wondering: "Where is Kevin? Why have there been no awesome updates on this totally awesome blog?" Well, I can tell you why. For the past few days I have been here:

No, your eyes do not deceive you. That is Newark Airport. The closest replica to hell we have on earth aside from the Republican national convention. Ironically, my journey into hell was more of a stairway to heaven. After waiting in Newark for hours, I got on a small airplane and she flew down to one of the most beautiful places I have seen: Savannah, Georgia. Yee-haw.
Now, I don't know how many of you have been down there but it's really not like her surrounding southern states. I only saw one Confederate flag and I heard more people with new york accents than I did good-ol-boys talking about their GED programs. I didn't' sense any racists, my long hair, tight pants and ringed fingers didn't get a single head turn (damn!) and there wasn't that uber creepy "I'm going to say good morning to every fucking person I come across" southern hospitality. Well, maybe a little. But just a touch.
One cool thing I saw was this:

Yes. That is Phillip Marlowe's office.
Stay cool cats and kittens