All I have to do to qualify for the money is a) pretend to like that incredibly bad rug that he wears all the time, except in the shower, I hope (you’d think Melinda would take him aside and tell him the truth), b) say something good about Windows 10 on some social media platform and c) repeatedly poke his pet gerbil with a fork.

This is even better than those Nigerian bank guys contacting me all the time to tell me about how their client has passed on and didn’t have any next of kin and how they just can’t let the 56 bajillion dollars the guy left behind get moldy sitting in their bank and how they’ve chosen me over the other 7.3 billion people on the planet to receive this cash if I will split with them 50/50 and how they know there’s lots of scams out there on the ‘Net but that they are COMPLETELY legit and all I need to do is give them my address, phone number, Social Security number, shoe size, children’s names and my bank account number/password so they can make a direct deposit into the account and thank you very much, may I be blessed with the company of many large breasted women.

I’m not going to take Bill’s money however, ‘cause I’m pretty sure he’d want to hang with me then, and despite the fact that I admire all the donations that he and his wife Melinda make to the various charities, he’s a fucktard whose company makes crappy products that only work properly once in a blue moon and has a customer service department that doesn’t give an iguana’s butt about helping anyone with a problem with said crappy products; sorry, BG, but I’m particular about with whom I hang. (Yes, that is proper English, yes, the last few words of that sentence do sound awkward and no, I’m not changing them.)

Besides, I’d probably just blow it all on an expensive home, a fancy red Acura NSX, women with large breasts, a huge yacht, museum quality artwork, women with large breasts, a 1922 Honus Wagner baseball card, women with large breasts and season’s tickets to see the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, just so I could watch them embarrass themselves in person rather than on TV. On second thought, forget the Bucs tickets…if I had to choose between watching the Bucs and getting a sharp stick in the eye, I’d have to think about it for a moment.

In other bazillionaire news, I’m sure by now you’re aware that President Tweety Bird has declared a trade war on China by attaching all kinds of import tariffs on a number of their products coming into America. Like the folks on Wall Street, I find this news very disturbing, but honestly, I’d be a lot more upset if he had declared a trade war on Japan.

The Japanese export a whole shitpot full of products to the U.S. as well, stuff like electronic gear and cameras and Toyotas and Hondas and Sapporo beer (don’t you DARE put a tariff on Sapporo, you douche-bag) and tiny little bonsai trees and steel and Pokemon cards amongst others.

They would even like to start exporting more natural gas, but not to us, to their Southeast Asian neighbors…according to CNBC (C the link below), they have an excess and need to dump it someplace, which rather surprises me, frankly, because I would have thought that Mexico would be the country with excess natural gas, given what their food does to my GI tract, as opposed to the effect of Japanese food typically has on me.


I called the Japanese embassy here in Tampa the other day to get the lowdown on any possible trade war rumors, find out about the natural gas thing and see if they could swing me a discount on an NSX. I spoke to one of the attaches, a man named Sheezabad Mammajama, who was very cordial but not very helpful.

Mr. Mammajama and I shared some personal info, for the sake of the conversation…he told me despite his name that he was an American citizen, born in Mud Butt SD (oh, BUTTE, sorry) of Japanese immigrant parents, and that he had lived here all his life. He said he was “into” cooking and that Mexican food was his specialty, which might explain some of the above NG excess, and that he also enjoys jogging, baseball, women with large breasts, midget sumo wrestling and classic rock. (He told me Deep Purple’s “Made In Japan” was his favorite album…go figure.)

Sadly, however, he couldn’t provide any insight into whether America and Japan were headed for a trade war, that he couldn’t get me a discount on an NSX but that he would send me a case of Sapporo, to show his country’s good intentions towards their American friends.

I thanked Mr. Mammajama for his time and generosity, and then sent him the YouTube link to DP’s “My Woman From Tokyo”…I figured that was the least I could do to thank him for the beer.


I could have sent him some of that 5 mill I was going to get from Microsoft Bill, but since I decided not to take it, he’s gonna’ have to settle for the Deep Purple vid.

I understand that Bill Gates is an atheist, but I’ve heard that God does exist and lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Just ask him.

Love and Nikons,

Cap’n John


Just an FYI, but I wrote the following about a week ago, well prior to the sad and extremely untimely passing of one of my heroes, Tom Petty…more on TP and the ‘Breakers in the future.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Well, here we are, post-Irma, and it’s now time for us to get back to the serious business of screwing up a bunch of other things in our world. (Did someone mention the President?)

In the midst of all the Irma Gedden scariness, along with all the crises’ and other equally crazy stuff happening lately all over the globe (did someone mention the President?), you may have missed a passing that we note here with great sadness…Walter Becker, a stellar musician, guitarist and one of the founding members of the rock group Steely Dan, left us on September 3rd of this year at the age of 67. There is only one appropriate word that can be used to describe Becker’s work…brilliant.

Here’s one for you, Walter (he played bass on this track), with a little help from the “Peanuts” kids…


“Please take me along when you slide on down.”

Did you know that “Steely Dan” is the name of a strap-on dildo (“Steely Dan III from Yokohama”), taken from the book “Naked Lunch” by William S. Burroughs. Burroughs, you may remember, was one of the Beat Generation writers that both Becker and Donald Fagen, the group’s other founding member, admired greatly.

Steely Dan III from Yokohama. Shit, I just call my dildo Bob.

And speaking of my new camera, I’m wondering if I can get some help or advice or whatever from the more electronically adept of you folks.

I just bought a new Nikon D3300 DSLR, and I have to tell you, it sure looks like a great camera (my second Nikon), with all the little buttons and gizmos and the too fey display screen on the back with all the little dials and graphs and thingies moving around, measuring shit and telling you what the relative light level and barometric pressure was in Dublin, Ireland at 22:03Z last 14 June, plus a bunch of cryptic but really impressive-looking electronic features like a “swirling kanooten radius” switch, which allows the camera to generate 1.21 gigawatts of power. (Okay, by show of hands, how many of you have recently considered building a time machine and returning to the 1950s?)

There’s a “trashcan” button to delete poopy shots, there’s “+/-“ button that changes the positive and negative terminals of your car battery in some manner, allowing for greater fuel efficiency and lower cholesterol, and there’s also a thingie to push that has a marking on it that looks like a little lightning bolt…I haven’t touched that one. There’s a circular dial gizmo on the top that has all kinds of letters and little pictures of this and that on it…I turned the dial to the “flower icon” (hey, how about that jargon, huh?), and then looked through the viewfinder, but I didn’t see anything that looked at all like a flower…all I saw was the other side of the room.

There’s even a small, black button with a big, ominous-looking red dot in its center, just below the dial thingie…I haven’t touched that one either.

But the worst part, and this is what I’m hoping SOMEBODY out there can help me with…I can’t for the life of me figure out where to put the film canister…anyone?

Appreciate it.

I saw this headline on a website last week…”Pam Anderson writes open letter to Kim Kardashian”. (I’m going to wait here a moment while you go back and re-read that sentence and digest it a little more thoroughly…)

I can only assume that Pam used crayons and Kim thought it was adorable and hung it on the ‘fridge, right next to a couple of Kanye’s drawings.

Did I mention I just bought a new camera last week?

Love and Photoshop,

Cap’n John

Post Script…oh yeah, that pic above of the sun, setting over the Gulf…took that with the new Nikon; sumbitch works pretty good, huh?

Post Post Script…I couldn’t find a place to sneak this in above, although for me, in most instances, that’s typically not a deterrent…

!!!!GO DODGERS!!!!

Thank you…we now return you to your regular programming.