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

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

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?

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.

They are the When We Were

Switch on the TV
and meet the Abortion Generation.
They have food and armies
and disease.
Make nice. They're the ones
who'll feed us when we're blind.

There are worms and birds and butterflies and big expensive spaceships punching through the purple sky. It’s all I hear on the internet.

It was a relief to find out that nobody knew nothing nowhere. It was a relief to have time speed it all up, so that we could recognize that their great ballets were really just flagellations. They were less like rocks and more like dust. It allowed the odd hope. It made us as good as gods. but it’s tiresome now. Come on, superman. Everybody has bad days. Everybody's beating themselves to shit. You can tell them you did it for the pussy.

Now mike greenwell wants the mvp trophy that is rightfully his; and happy birthday dear paris hilton: daddy loves you even though he was never really there; and perhaps it’s time to fish in a smaller pond.

At least three of us sat in this guy’s parent’s basement in the late eighties and he was called something like “snoop dogg” with the same number of syllables and some of those letters and vowel and consonant sounds and I was almost all small bones and sort of ashamed that I could barely run or throw a punch and didn’t want to throw rocks at dogs though “snoop dogg” could and and wanted and probably had to do those things so he took this eyedropper as at least three of us sat crosslegged with wood panel on the wall in the eighties and filled it with something he called steroids and then let something he called steroids out under his tongue and with what seemed like more trepidation than the others but perhaps wasn’t I followed, so the moral of of the story is maybe I took steroids but I never fucked a madonna or threw rocks at dogs and I still don’t know if I can really punch though I’ve practiced on walls and file cabinets in the office. I am still alive, so I must be indestructible.