Testing, testing. "Is it rolling Bob?"

Ok, I had to go get some brain tests.  Ever had one?  Two?  Maybe three?

Well that's what I did today and now I'm writing this goddamn blog which I think  two people read.  Well that's OK, because they are good people; Ms Moon and that guy from Tally Hassle, and as long as one person reads it, even if it's just me, I'll write it.  Why?  Well believe it or not, when I hire on, I'm as loyal as Old Dog Trey. You can take that to the bank.  Good as gold.  Solid as a rock.

A real Boy Scout. Now you are probably saying, "Hey Texino didn't you used to be pill head and take all your friend's drugs?" Well yes, that is true, plus I've done some other bad things in my life.  So you could ask? "Hey Texino, think you are going to Hell?" and I might glibly answer, "Where do you think I've been the last seven years?" and while your thinking that over, let me tell you something. I've been checking it out and according to my figures, I've been trying to kill myself since 1966.   Now you have to say "Hold up bud, that's 40 odd years, so you must be the worst shot since Elmer Fudd."

OK, we may be running aground on a simile here, but the fact remains that during that time I have been a commercial fisherman, a fighting soldier, a high steel painter, a firefighter and a drug addict. All of these professions are ones where people routinely die and I know this to be true as I have seen it happen in every single one.  Sure all I wanted to do was be a normal man with a family, but that one didn't fly, so I chose musician but I wasn't good enough to make it count for much so I went to "work" at a series of dangerous jobs and after all that time I finally managed to come closer to dying than ever before and maybe I did die because, as I implied above, I seem to have been in Hell. OK? Fine, but wait!  Just the other day one of the doctor's (Hell's full of them) sent me to someone else who was a doctor and this one said that it might be possible that I was in hell by mistake and I could take some tests and find out and while I was at it, why not try these anti Hell pills and see if you don't cool down?  Well this may seem odd to you living beings, but I seem to be less hell-bound than before. "Prove it you say?"  OK,

check this out. Today I was laid up in an MRI machine with my head in a cage.  MRI is a big pipe runs through a donut and being stuck down in there is something many people cannot deal with.  Well while I was inside, and as usual, I was thinking of eternal damnation. In fact, I was pretending that I was in a coffin and was destined to stay there forever with this noise that the MRI makes as my only company; it's really loud btw. Well that ought to scare a person, right?  Being stuck down a tube for eternity with you head immobilized while devils banged on it with big hammers.  Get the picture?  Well after a few minutes of trying to scare myself, I started to pick up a rhythm in the noise, a beat if you will.  Now once you got a beat you got some music because music is just sounds of different pitch , broken down into fractional parts of a beat.  You like that definition?  I did, so I started singing with the beat.  I imagine the people in the control room wondered what in Hell I was up to.  I want to leave you with that thought.  Just as I dearly want to be free of this troubling condition I have floundering in for the last seven and one half years.  Since I intend to continue with this writing, I'll let you now what happens.

T