Hey, guess what, I'm still kicking, still full of it, and still generally pissed off and amused about the nature of the world and about all those haters out there who get annoyed when I get annoyed that every single drum in America gets called a bongo. And bongos aren't even cute! They are bad ass! Anyway, I'm about to start ranting again and this time I suppose I should stay more committed to the project, because I do believe in it. And this time I have invested some money in

Dumbdrumguy.com

So yeah, the wife is pestering me right now about what I want it to look like. In a few days (or most likely weeks because I can't afford the hosting just yet), I'll be spinning my yarns and nonsense over there.

Until then...Smooch! To all my loyal fans...I have at least one that I know that isn't my mom.

The Frump Begins!

All right then...There was a time, long long ago, when I was called "the wild hairy monkey man." I was a bad-ass in the ring, so I was informed by my bloody victims. Well, not too much blood, but I was no slouch. 6 foot tall, with big ass, frying pan, size 13 feet. This was Olympic style Tae Kwon Do and I pushed myself, over the course of 10 years or so, all the way to the rank of second degree black belt. Then, like all good, dutiful black belts, I took the name of my "mother school" and started a branch location, paid my franchise fees, learned how to market to children and parents, dutifully watched my NAPMA and MAIA vids and figured out all the new marketing techniques to bring 'em in! The three Rs, baby! Recruiting, Retail, Retention. As this went on, and my mother school turned more and more to pizza parties, Karate Kid events, and tuition hikes so only white-bred suburbanites and soccer moms would walk through those hallowed doors, my own intellectual angst grew and grew into a full-fledged resentment of the so-called "industry" Business first, baby, teaching second! And so...I left...walked away...said fuck it...And now, years later, I find myself scrolling around, far too late at night, idly looking for a kernel of truth left in the industry, and all I find are badly written, overly blinky websites dominated by NAPMA and MAIA, and not a word of anything critical about this "industry."

We teach the tenets, they say. We build your strength and confidence, and you learn self defense too, they tout. I've been shot at, pistol-whipped, homeless, beat up, screwed up, and all I can see when I look at these websites is capitalism at its finest. Exoticize and water down the point, safely package it to those who have the money, and git it out there! Git er dun and make some bread! Thing is, I'm not sure if it's such a good idea to "empower" bank employees or soup kitchen workers with a palm strike to a little foamy pad other than it costs said employee or worker 80 bucks for that three hour seminar. Makin' bank! Unless of course you're my first so-called "master" who is now behind bars for oops...trying to hire an undercover cop to kill his ex-girlfriend. What a crock.

And so...here I am...a brainy, frumpy, black belt...

That's really all I have to say. It would be great to start the Frumpy Black Belt club and get a bunch of us old, out of shape farts talking about how screwy this industry has become. On the one hand there are "belt factories," on the other hand there are "dungeon dojos" with blood and drool on the walls to replace the flaking lead paint.