Let me for once write about the foolishness of this great lie that is my life. To dispel the facade. I, like those who I would regard as my contemporaries of blatant assholery am a simple man. I enjoy the comfort of simple things. Only somewhere along the way have I or by some external societal influence attempted to convince myself of the more contrived things I endeavor to distract myself with.
As I sit here in my loft a 26 year old man, cross legged on a burgundy and tan Persian rug, keying away at the instrument of my immortality. I take it all in for once all these external stimuli brought together to one place, a relevant representation of the more real internal aspects of myself. Miles Davis is playing downstairs filling the entirety of the loft with melodic splendor. I shift my perspective to the deep reddish brown wooden floors, the dim lighting, the scent of Nag Champa incense. I yearn for the good life. That is my driving force. An empty cliché often hurled by those far beyond hope of it all, echoes in the distance “money can’t buy happiness.” Sure it can buddy, and if not, not having it will get you sadness for free. (Read More)
The Truth About being a Man. What women should know if they're going to be with one. What men should know if they're going to be one.
As this is my introductory article for a new series I venture there are a few things I need to go over that will essentially serve as the outline for my tirades here at (insert publication) for the weeks to come. I will however, not stick to this outline entirely. One thing I need to make abundantly clear, although the content and views expressed by the author are somewhat reprehensible, you will find yourself amused nonetheless and mostly in agreement. No need for a long drawn out introspective. We're just going to put it all out on the table nothing you and I aren't already aware of. And another point of note, I use the term "truth" lightly. It's all relative to your experiences and practices. Mostly.
The few things that do set us aside from animal, woman and an inferior version of man just occupying the genitalia momentarily, are really the salt of the matter here. We all have different views on what those tenets are, however I'm here to set you straight. In the next few weeks or until I'm shit-canned (replace with fired if censorship is required) we are going to touch on everything from attire and grooming habits, demeanor, interaction with members of the opposite sex, the car, the bachelor pad or if that impending white picket fence is almost upon you, then that. The real do's and don'ts of dating 101. The watering holes that you actually should be going to. Living life at its fullest at home and abroad. Sex, money and the fame we all find ourselves chasing. All this information tried and true thoroughly put to the test. Granted a bit more error than trial.
The Strong, the Weak
We generalize society, this collaboration of men and women. They all act on self interest, they all are capable of empathy. There are demographics and variations of these actions to be considered. We cannot single out one tribe and say but the tribe of 80's cutthroat businessmen only act greedily for their own self interest readily disposing of the people they have no use for. Or, the green peace hippy tree huggers live in harmony with nature selflessly sacrificing themselves driven by some innate characteristic of empathy.
The very real situation here is due to our political nature and our overall inability to physically isolate ourselves. It will never be solely about one group. Some groups exhibit different characteristics. In society one persons greed and one persons generosity will often collide. Some will take, some will give, some will be taken. In the very primal concept of society one man can cave another man’s head in with a single well placed punch. One can forage for berries. Tell me Mr. Berry-Picker is going to challenge the natural authority of Chief Head-Splitter. There is inequality. Inequality is necessary. We don't have much choice in the matter. I don't know if I'd want to be a part of a perfect society. Sounds rather boring.
Due to the possessors of power the strong, is why historically the scales have been so tipped in mans favor and not women’s. Their haven't exactly been and excessive number of Zena Warrior Princesses running around. But there have been a lot of berry pickers.(Read More)
Unemployment Woes; Is There No Job for “J. Rousseau”?
As I was on my way to visit a friend downtown I happened to notice something a little out of place. Among the more usual and common sightings of Houston’s growing vagrant population there was a man in glasses with a very clean-cut appearance. He had a very nice haircut combed over to the side and was immaculately dressed in business attire and polished shoes. His only noticeable flaw was a day’s growth of facial hair. He was there standing quite stoically on a corner holding a sign that read:
Unemployed Regional Director of Sales. Will work for annual salary.
He would not give his name or disclose his prior employer’s name. He simply said, “You can call me J. Rousseau.” His pseudonym, I would speculate is an allusion to the 18th-Century, Genevois philosopher. He states he has been actively searching for employment since January of this year but to no avail. (Read Full Story)
An Idea
What have we done today to achieve our goals? When I woke this morning I was a certain man so far in my own achievements and failures. By the time I lay my head down tonight will I be that same man? Will I be less or more further in my endeavors? The objective should clearly be further. Come with me and we will build corporations, futures and hopes, legacies not just for ourselves but those whom we hold dear.
Give me a hammer and I will build cities, mortar and I will erect monuments, an idea and we can build a new world.
The Mexico Fiasco
At the sight of those handcuffs a serious degree of panic welled up inside of me. Fight or flight, combat stress call it what you will, it was go time. There I am in board shorts, sandals and an A&F polo fighting a guy in armor with a slung assault rifle trying desperately to hand cuff me. He successfully gets the cuffs on one hand. I somehow end up knocking him over before he finishes and hit the door juking the other two like Adrian Peterson heading for the end zone. Here is the moment in any given night were you take that mental freeze frame, a snap shot, if you will. It goes something like this. This American madman running bare foot down a street lined with bars and onlookers. Handcuffs flailing back and forth beating on my chest with every step. Drunkenly certain I’m heading north and if I just keep going I’ll hit the border in no time. Gun shots going off in the not too distant distance. I now believe they were, in the air, warning shots. Not effective at all. Who would actually stop running due that style of warning. That generally means run faster. I did, making Z patterns through back alleys and adjacent streets. Short of breath and completely disorientated I stopped running and threw up some of my vodka. I collect myself and look around. Desperation sets in. then I see it. Hope in a neon Modelo sign. With nowhere else to go I figure why not. So I go into the bar and order a drink. (Read Full Story)
List of Asian take-out joints not to call if starving to death. You will actually die.
I just want to start by saying I am not racist. However, for the love of all that is good and decent in this country when I have to deal with an automated phone system for a utility or banking service, I should not have to press 1 for English. That should be the default. This is after all my country for christ sake.I am a white male American. Last time I checked we kinda hang out here... And another thing, its 9:37 P.M. and I'm absolutely starving to death I've been living off wheat thins, pepper-jack cheese and okra for two days (someones been too busy to shop for groceries) and went to the gym. After several failed attempts to order some Chinese take-out I begin to notice a patten. None of these fucks speak english. Are you fucking kidding me? If I have to spend twenty minutes on the phone just to give you my address your establishment could do with an old fashined molotov cocktailing. I'm just saying. Maybe its the pre-workout talking but enough is enough.
Liu's Garden Chinese Restaurant: (281) 251-9190
Shanghai Bistro: (281) 298-9998
Ace Chinese Restaurant: (281) 363-3992
Jade Palace Restaurant: (281) 446-1616
Pho Bong Sen: (281) 970-2800
Korea Garden Restaurant:(713) 468-2800
*side note: apologies to those of my friends who happen to be Asian and speak English. you guys rock the rest of your cousins however suck.
Allen Henson Rules... When did I get Rules?
Allen Henson Rule # 27
Never dump a girl unless you have the next one already lined up.
Allen Henson Rule # 12
If you’re going to drink liquor don't be a pussy. Get it on the rocks.
Allen Henson Rule # 33
Know your post-impressionist painters
Allen Henson Rule # 11
Brown shoes brown belt. Black shoes black belt.
Allen Henson Rule # 22
Kick it old school mix your Rob Zombie with a little Sinatra and
Davis. No top 40.
Allen Henson Rule # 5
No means maybe.
Allen Henson Rule # 6
Maybe means probably.
Allen Henson Rule # 20
If you hit something with your car always leave adequate contact information. If it is another vehicle, slide under windshield wiper; if person slide in back pocket. If drunk when this happens check for witnesses. Do not leave contact info. Just leave.
Allen Henson Rule # 31
Always discuss religion and politics. People without spines avoid
these topics.
Allen Henson Rule # 19
There is no official rule on being inebriated before noon. It's more like a commonly held opinion.
Allen Henson Rule # 7
Don't get married until 40. Ex-wives suck.
Allen Henson Rule # 8
Don’t have children until 30. Child support sucks.
Allen Henson Rule # 21
Own a plant. They Don't poop. Chicks dig em.
Allen Henson Rule #2
If you don't like Journey. Fuck you.
Allen Henson Rule # 29
Educate your fucking self. If you exist in America today past the age of 25 and do not have a bachelor’s degree you should fuck start your brain with a power drill. (It's called an occipital lobotomy)
Allen Henson Rule # 37
When tying a tie, never go with a single; instead try using the Double Windsor. It shows class.
A Lap-Dance Cri de Coeur
I've spent my fair share of hard earned American greenbacks to alleviate the financial burdens of beautiful women shaking their assets both at home and abroad. No matter where you are it's generally the same set-up. Every now and then you get tossed a curveball.
It had been sometime since I've been to a strip club. By some time I'm talking about roughly three months. I'd never been to this specific club until this night. It's almost an understandable dilemma. I couldn't say anyone's at fault per se, but I will. The shorthand version is boy meets girl, girl sits on lap, conversation ensues, boy declines lap dance, and conversation continues upon girl's departure she informs boy he owes her $200. I believe the exact statement was, "So how much is good, two hundred?"
In a situation like that your left with two courses of action the snide cliche, "honey, you ain't that pretty, and the conversation's just not that good." or you just pay the girl, not come back, tell your buddies and for some write a nasty little review on Yelp or City Search. Who wants to be the first guy? I do and generally am. The only reason I wasn't was more than likely due to the amount of alcohol I had imbibed already throughout the day.
The understandable part is these girls are working and these poor saps partaking of their services are generally pushovers. I would also go so far as to say if these girls were to say "Hey I'm going to sit with you for an hour but it's going to cost you two hundred dollars they probably wouldn't get as much face time. That's the dilemma. The face-time gets them the dances. And after all we're all just here to make money. Well except for the aforementioned "poor saps."
Generally, a business is defined by its products and or service. A lap-dance is an obvious service traditionally requiring payment. It's pretty cut and dry. However, when a girl sits down and just plays chatty, well advised that an individual isn't really looking for a "lap-dance" there's not a clear service there. This is where the general consumer would feel cheated or taken advantage of. I would guess the resolution is there needs to be clear lines between what a service is and how these transactions are going to go down but without scaring off the potential clientele.
As the consumer whether I'm going to buy a new car, grab a bite to eat at my favorite restaurant, or see a half naked girl shaking it to David Guetta's "Sexy Bitch" we want the best service we can get . we want straight to the point service. I couldn't say anyone's at fault per se, but I will. The Men's Club dropped the ball on this one.
At times it’s almost been a complete act of masochism. To some degree we all have that duality of man complex. The angel and the devil sitting on our shoulders. However, the degree of inner conflict I’ve experienced in going forward with this project has at times almost felt like a split-personality. Jack vs. Allen; and to be honest neither one of those guys are very nice at all to begin with. So, I don’t talk about the book much or the next installment I'm compelled, probably by the devil himself, to write. But then, a buddy at a get together puts me on the spot and mentions “Hey, did you know my buddy here is published?”And good Christian women begin asking me "What is it about?" "Where can I get a copy?" I may be a heathen at heart but I do have some sense of respect.
Jack Miller everybody, profoundly profane or is it profanely profound? I’ve still yet to find an explanation as to what it’s all about. When people ask me the best answer I have is an analogy about a roller coaster destined, to everyone’s knowledge, to derail in mid-ride, killing or terribly maiming all those who foolishly ride. Everyone knows. But they still get on. If you can figure out a better explanation for this ride we call life, I’d like to hear it.
Journal Entry: 21 January 2008
We’re almost home. The replacement unit should be here in less than ten days. We leave next month. I’m ready. I am anxious and excited; feeling more like a boy days before Christmas than a soldier in combat. Last night, one of the guys took a M249 Machinegun with him into a Humvee and shot himself in the chest. He took three rounds before he fell and let go of the trigger. There was blood everywhere. He was one of the outgoing types, really friendly. I’m confused. There were no warnings or signs. There one day then gone the next. It would be better if he just left a reason. I do have to admit I am a little shocked by my own callousness. I don’t really feel anything. I am certain it is a terrible tragedy. I am not alone in this reaction. It’s been a long year over here. We just want to go home. If he wasn’t along for the ride then fuck ‘em. God save him and keep him.
You Really Gotta Watch These NVA
It finally happened... I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. It's almost comical if it wasn't so tragic. I woke up groggily one morning with Joliz, a beautiful Vietnamese girl straddling me. that's not the first thing I notice though. My line of sight goes as such, .38 special, Asian chick, tears and trembling expression. I then notice the hammers back and her fingers in the trigger weld. I always knew it would end like this. In between sobs she manages to stammer,
"Who is she?"
"Who, baby" mind racing, the honey toned query is all I could manage.
Looking back at the iPhone she reads "Can't wait to see you tonight" Lacy Shelby
"Who the fuck is Lacy?
Done in by an iPhone, damn txt messages pop up even when it's locked. Had she not been armed I would have blown her off and told her to head out.
"Okay, just put the gun down and we can talk about this."
Her expression went from the sulking distraught to an eerily composed in seconds. She cut straight to the chase. And shot me. I managed three good movements. Recoiling in an expression of intense pain and disbelief, I punched her in the face as hard as I could and hit the deck.
Luckily the same reason I could hear every single TV in the three lofts to my left is the same reason all three lofts could hear the one gunshot in the loft to their right. I came to for a moment in the ambulance. And then finally when it was all said and done I had managed a decent tour of the Methodist hospital from ER to ICU and all that jazz. I was now stable after having been shot in the lung. Joliz Than Vu was in jail.
I had always have the sneaking suspicion that a Vietnamese girl would always be the end of me. Two tours in Iraq and the states in my own bed is where I get shot. Would this teach me a lesson? Perhaps instill a degree of monogamy in me. Probably not. Might just wear a vest to bed from now on.
Luckily after a keg floated I had started going around the house recruiting for the contest. It was too easy. I passed out a dozen or so skimpy, white wife beaters already. The lovely contestants lined up to my left and right. As I stood there armed with a garden hose in one hand a redi-whip cream can in the other, I had the distinct feeling that was exactly where I was supposed to be at that very moment. I looked up into the heavens and rays of celestial light were beaming down on me and I saw him, God giving me an air high-five. At that moment Dante cranked the garden hose on. I thoroughly performed my civic duties as Wet T-shirt Contest Host. Everyone went wild. We judged the event the only fair and impartial way of doing so, by mob mentality. I’d hose down a girl a little more and the crowd would yell. We picked the winner. Beautiful, busty, and wet. Then the T-shirts came off and the whip cream action began. I gave the cans to the girls and stepped down. While the girls were having a redi-whip fight, the crowd was going nuts. I scanned the scene. We had a full house, cell phone cameras high in the air, music blaring. FYI: This picture has nothing to do with the lil' Korea story.
