OK, it's time for you to move on.

Store everything in a steel building and visit my new site at colincarlson.com. Ciao.

Oh beautiful, for spacious skies...

Sorry to hear that, Dodgy.

I can't allow this blogcorpse to rot without giving it something truly horrible to catalyze its demise. How can something like this happen?
You need to watch this.
You'll break right out of the doldrums if you watch this.
Seriously, go right now and watch this.

Now you may die. Remix.

Finding himself increasingly ill-equipped to deal with the rigors of polite society*, Dodgy Goodtimes has decided to no longer update this blog. His rottingcorpsefeelings have been stinking up the internet for too long now as it is. I will leave his words here, melodramatically floating in cyberspace, in the event I have left something valuable in between its seat cushions. Thanks for stopping by. Who knows? Perhaps something will appear at www.colincarlson.com some day.

*How many Aerosmith t-shirts can a man see in one day before he loses his mind? One.

Overthought and loveless. Sort of shit.
I dig beats, and all I ever read is the internet.

Someday soon you’ll be amazed by how much you love your life. it will be completely unexpected and feel completely natural, your life. I know it, I can just tell.

Gorillaz - "Feel Good Inc."
Thievery Corporation featuring the Flaming Lips - "Marching the Hate Machines (Into the Sun)"
Boom Bip featuring Gruff Rhys "Do's and Don'ts"

Today was my favorite April Fool's Day. God finally leapt out from behind the bushes and shouted,

"La la la! April Fool's! You really are the king!" and handed me the crown. And then the temperature in her womb dropped yet another degree.

Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. I am the perfect slave for your day job.

Comrade Nathan has started his own blog somewhere out on the lonesome internet. It is called "Define the Center," and I hear it's a great place to take underage chicks and get them all drunk and shit.

where i'm at; don’t worry, yer never alone, god sez it's alright, death’s breath is still on yer neck and it's the noise in other people's heads that drives me insane!

you ever walk into an elevator that someone else has just farted in? and then obsess over whether or not you should’ve just gotten out and waited for the next one as it makes its 20 second journey to the 24th floor? and then, when it finally gets there, have it open -- only to find the hot receptionist who works next door and tears your tongue out waiting to get in it? not me, jerk-offs!

dear friends, family, and colleagues:

please do not allow me to be kept alive by machines if i am in a persistent vegetative state, regardless of how funny it may be. ok, if it's really funny, you can do it for a little while. and, ok, if you think some congressman might say,

"He is still one of us and this cannot stand. Dodgy Goodtimes has survived his passion weekend and he has not been forsaken."

you can keep me alive a little longer, if it'll spice up the eulogy. just make sure you donate my body to necrophiliacs local 151 afterwards.

Welcome to the machine! I ♥ u! Just so you know, the American government spent the last couple of days trying to stop doctors from removing the feeding tube from a vegetable and holding hearings on the use of steroids in baseball. Did you know that Michael Jackson is on trial for child molestation, that Scott Peterson was sentenced to life, and that Robert Blake was found not guilty of murdering his wife? I should hope so!

no matter how random or temporary things may seem,

"no, not really"
will always be
four syllables
l-o-n-g.

the dodgy symphonies volume 40 [. . .] pilfered in part from donkey 9: for the lady who wears a fake pink dick. what life was like now: you should avoid prolonged or excessive exposure to direct and/or artficial sunlight while taking this medication; we have unfinished monkey business, you and i.

please play these in the specified order. you just can't trust itunes. (ik weet niet het, houdt het allen aan me steek.) i should've changed the tags, i know. i remembered, forgot, uploaded, and then remembered again.
take me all at once (85mb)
or,
in pieces:
1. "Seven Nation Army (Harry Potter and George W. Bush's Severed Head Army Mix)" The Flaming Lips
2. "Really Rappin' Something" The Kleptones
3. "Pardon My Freedom" !!!
4. "Wicked and Weird" Buck 65
5. "Stereo Blasting (Lola)" Damon Albarn & Einar Orn Benedikt
6. "Lluchia Dy Fflachlwch Drosda I" Ffa Coffi Pawb*
7. "To You Alone" The Beta Band
8. "So Begins Our Alabee" Of Montreal
9. "Rockin' Chair" Oasis
10. "Color Bars" Earlimart
11. "Talk" Coldplay
12. "Pwdin Wy" Gruff Rhys
13. "Pwdin Wy 2" Gruff Rhys
14. "Panthers" Wilco
15. "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore" The Smiths
16. "The Stoked American" Out Hud
17. "For Pete's Sake (Closing Theme)" The Monkees

*[throw your flashdust over me] the world is a flop, etc. dodgy rules ok?

Eddie Schultz-next Limbaugh?

The recently blacklisted Fargo City Commissioner, Linda Coates, seems to be the creator and head of this embryonic organism, the Prairie Progressives which held their second ever meeting tonight at the Radisson in Fargo. There were about 200 people in the audience. She encouraged us to visit the cash bar to help pay for the room. (The misanthropologist's sister had her wedding reception in that very ballroom). I attended with fellow blacklister, Sarah Miller.

First we heard from Linda with some housekeeping. Then the man whose job it is to put his nuts in a vice for about 14 hours a day, recently elected North Dakota Democratic NPL Party Chairman David Strauss, gave a talk on his 12-point list of things we need to do to help Democrats start winning in North Dakota. Mercifully he confided with us that he has a 3-hour version of the speech but he'd be delivering the 15 minute quick capsule review. I basically agreed with him, but he seemed a little timid. Maybe he's just not much of a speaker. Sarah said, "when this man speaks my eyes start to glaze over."

And then next, the keynote speaker: Cassleton's own Ed Schultz. I have to say that I think he's got a real future with this new radio invention. He's fiery and emotional, seemed pretty focused. Most importantly, not boring. It was a lot of red meat about the neocon agenda and the Bushies, but he was very coherent and seems to know some facts. He says he's got about a million listeners a day. He was pretty entertaining. Minnesota's own Roger Moe even stopped by for the Q&A afterwards.

I'm glad I went. Howard Dean is right when he says that liberals and progressives are bad about showing up. Sometimes I think that's all they do. Rep. Earl Pomeroy, Sens. Dorgan and Conrad, North Dakota's entire congressional delegation, will attend the next meeting. That's basically the entire Democratic establishment coming out for Linda Coates. They must have big plans for her. I wonder if she's the new Heidi Heitkamp. Linda is also a musician of some accomplishment and she and her husband own and operate Barking Dog Records.

And we're the Prairie Progressives, mind you. Not the Prairie Liberals, not the Prairie Populits, not the Prairie Non-Partisan Leaguers. We all voted for this name...still running away from the liberal label. Meekness does not win elections. Lies and deceit and money do.

Don't worry, I'm not turning this into a North Dakota political blog, but I did get fired up.

A break from self-absorbed navel-gazing which is just as well since I cannot hear out of all of my ears anyway so we go to the tape and find

Last night, Drudge had a headline on his page reading:

"PG-13 MOVIE: 'F**K, S**T, NI**ER, A**HOLE'... "

I wondered what movie would have his panties all twisted in a bunch. Is someone finally gonna fuck a pie again? Well, this morning that headline is linked and the movie is...

Gunner Palace.

A documentary about soldiers fighting in Iraq. Sad sad sad.

I'm starting to feel sorry for this Jeff Gannon character. He's in way over his head -- a head which will soon have an extra hole in it, I can just tell. And the Empire State Building is just three mad chords stretched out in a dirge.

Miss America ain’t never tellin’ anyone how she feels ever never ever again. They can’t take it, the whitetickfat she lays out for them like monuments in a row.

"I used to think it was the world," she moans. "But now it’s just me. And I don’t even know what I look like! My eyes are just holes in a face!"

She’d rather die tomorrow than spend another million years beholden to chaos. So she sells off all of her investments and asks the millionaire to call her "Sweetheart" when he slaps her across the face. Too bad he can't get an erection.