Monday, October 14, 2013


They're worse than what passes for zombies. From insidious haunts in (primarily) Eastern European hardscrabble redoubts their slimy tentacles reach out to ruin our stats and foil our dreams. Referrer spammers are modern day pirates, invading the sites of innocent people for their own low life scams. Sticky hootchie mamas and get rich quick swindles abound. Few ever stop them, not effectively anyway. That's why we went to The New Jersey Pines. They got 'witchy-wimmen' there... and they got 'means.'

Edith, our own Piney Woman, who sometimes keeps house for the vampires, gonna throw a hoo-doo. She real good at it too. Once made meat fall off the bones of a real bastid what lived down on Delaware Bay. Don't know what he did, or how often he done it. But never gone do it no more. Settin' in his boat he was.... little flat bottom sixteen footer. Gettin' drunk with 'Smash-Foot.' Everybody know 'Smash-Foot' what got his foot all torn up in an old wooden escalator in the big old Lit Brothers Department Store. They give him two thousand dollar for 'bout three toes and few other bones. Feet was a lot cheaper back then. Get hisself a iron tipped boot with a lead weight in it. He become a professional rib kicker, breakin bones for the bastid what owned this here boat.  Sometime he crack a head too, like to break up the monotony.

They settin' out there raidin' crab traps and drinkin' 'Jack Bennys.' That what you get when you mix Jack Daniels and cream soda. Give you diabetes and liver problem all at once. Sky all silver an' hot. Water all gray and heavy. Look like it wanna rain real bad. Thunder storm comin', but not yet. They not out far. They in like the marshes. Green-heads bitin'. They the real mean flies. Big ones. Got dead, dull, green, round eyes. Look like they fill a snot. When you sqeeze 'em, they is. 'Smash-Foot' say - Shit, they eatin' me alive. Look all these bleedin', red welts I got. One got down my pants and bit off part a my ass too! Let's go in. We gotta go in....... But that bastid what owned the boat don't wanna go in. He wanna steal some more crabs. Think he once 'did somethin'' to some gal from the Pines. Think she was twins. He don't care 'bout no flies, 'cause fly don't bite no bastid anyway. It like a deal they make wit' them what own 'em.

But that when the hoo-doo get him. Drift out a the Pines and down over Cumberland County like a genuine soul crushin' miasma, only nobody see it. Some can feel it. They can smell it, jus' can't see it.

Hoo-doo kiss that bastid all over. Snake down his pants. Crawl up his shirt. Wrap 'round his head. He doan even know it there. But then, after 'bout thirty five heartbeat, it start rippin' in. 
Bastid start goin 'aah! EEE!!'.... Start tearin' off his clothes an' dancin' 'round. Smash-Foot doan want no part a this. Jump overboard and swim to where the dirt get more solid. Then he hop on the road and run all the way home. 

Bastid start scratchin' at big, old, red welts tracin' dark pink, puffy smiles all over his body. Cryin' too. That when they commence peelin' open... all the way down to the bone. And he jus' lay there, flat on the bottom of that skiff, as his flesh rip off, slip over the side an' go swimmin'. Crabs get most of it. Some kind a little worm eat the rest. Bastid just lay there starin' up at that hot, gray sky. Jus' a skeleton what got eyes an' a few globs a internal organs in where his belly used a be. Ten minute later he go 'guhk' an' die. Must a been a pretty rough ten minute. 

Don't know what she gone do to them spammers. Edith, I mean.

Bet it gone be somethin' good.

I let you know...


link~> VISIT ALMOST 1,280 EPISODES ... Twitter~>Billy Kravitz ... please write a COMMENT. thank you. and if you too are plagued by these referrer spammers, concentrate and ad your brain power too ours. maybe we can get rid of these bastards, or at least chop them down a little. 

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