April 06, 2004


OK, Blogspot and Blogger were great to me.

Wonderful--what would you call them? Products? Services?

Whatever-- they were great, but i thought i would never leave has been finally and officially moved here.

The page design is not done, or even really begun, but the posts will begin again and continue daily beginning tomorrow.

Thanks all. It has been a blast,

Jason Norvein Wachtelhausen.

April 02, 2004

OK, so I suck.

But that should not stop you from checking out the people who don’t.

Fred Stutzman’s somewhat.org, and Ant Preston’s annoia.com both fit into the category of things that don’t suck.

While both of these sites are comprised of the work of many they would be nothing without the motivating forces (and merciless lashings) of Fred and Ant. So in tribute I would like to share….

….their social security numbers:

Fred: 587 78 9045

Ant: 427 27 6754

March 25, 2004

Please take a look.

A new story at Bullfight.

And this.

March 24, 2004

Phone Plays.

Episode 3: The role of Jesus.

(The stage is split into two halves. On the left we have Mindy’s room. The walls are pink and covered with boy-band posters. Teddy bears and a beach ball are strewn about the floor. The room is messy, but cheerful. On the right we have Sammoth’s room. It’s a dingy run down place—a tiny room in a cramped apartment. Only a dirty sheet covers the army cot rudely shoved into a corner. A radiator occasionally spurts and steams against the far wall.)

(Both Sammoth and Mindy enter their respective rooms at the same time carrying their school bags. They are both high school students. Mindy wears a tight blue and gold Fredrick Douglas High T-shirt and a pair of short white shorts. Sammoth wears a long dirty black skirt and a tight black t-shirt that says “My Science Project” across her chest. They both pick up their phones, dial, get a busy signal, sigh and hang up. Mindy begins to brush her hair. Sammoth tries the number again. Mindy answers.)

Mindy: Hello.

Sammoth: Mindy?

Mindy: Sammoth! I was just trying to call you!

Sammoth: I was just trying to call you!

Mindy: Oh my God! You should have seen in French class today, Mr. Bridges farted sooo loud!

Sammoth: Vraiment?

Mindy: Qui! It was Formidable! (Laughs from both)

Sammoth: Mr. Bridges is a jerk. So is Mrs. Alverez.

Mindy: Oh my God! No kidding she probably farts all the time too.

Sammoth: I think you should stop saying that so much.

Mindy: What? Fart?

Sammoth: No. Oh my God—it’s like taking his name in vain. I mean you do believe in God right?

Mindy: Sure, totally.
Sammoth: And Jesus-right?

Mindy: Nahh, fuck Jesus.

Sammoth: But how can you believe in one with out the other.

Mindy: Easy. One—God—is like an extension of myself, my feelings, my personal beliefs. The other—Jesus—is like some weird religious artifact. I’m sure Jesus was a cool guy, but that’s about it. I’m not going to worship him any more than I’d worship Buddha or Mohammad or Orgo—the ogre prophet.

Sammoth: Well for me I just can’t separate the two. I don’t suppose there is anything wrong with that though. I mean in the end we still both believe in god right?

Mindy: Well, let me put it to you like this. We both like art right?

Sammoth: Yeah.

Mindy: Well, lets say that I only liked art that was painted with the blood and feces of men that I killed. And, let’s say that I just couldn’t separate the two.

Sammoth: Yeah.

Mindy: Do you still think it would be a good thing that I loved in art?

Sammoth: I guess so if you believed in God.

Mindy: OK yeah, whatever. Anyway I’m commin’ downtown tonight. See if you can steel some beers from your dad. Cool?

Sammoth: Cool!


March 23, 2004

Phone Plays.

Episode 2: The Invention.

(At a workbench sits an old man with gray hair and a bushy drooping moustache. He sits with his chin in his hands—a defeated look on his face. In front of him is an old fashioned telephone smeared with peanut butter and a plate with a mangled peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on it. The door to the work shop opens and the mans son enters.)

Act 1
Son: Hello father.
Old man: Ah, hello my son.
Son: Father, what is wrong. You seem sad.
Old Man: No no my son. I am not sad, only frustrated.
Son: What is it? What has happened?
Old man: I had such high hope for this new invention. I thought it would surly be the thing that rescued us from the poor house, but it just does not seem to work.
Son: What is it? What is it called?
Old man: I call it the telephone. It was supposed to be a device that made it easier to spread peanut butter for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but alas, it seems only to have made the spreading harder.

(The old man holds up the mangled remains of the sandwich to illustrate his point. On instinct the hungry child snatches away the food and gobbles it down, then wipes his face.)

Son: Perhaps we could use this thing for something else. It’s such a beautiful invention it seems a shame to see it go to waste.

(Just then the phone begins to ring. The Old man’s face light up with the wonder of discovery.)

Act 2

(The curtain rises and we see the old man and son dressed in expensive cloths of gold and silk strolling through a well-kept up-scale park. In the background a group of children play soccer using a telephone for a ball, a pair of lovers float on the pond in a giant telephone using another long telephone to paddle, a man with long gray hair and spectacles wearing knickers a vest and waist coat flies a telephone from a string with a key attached to it.)

Son: Father we are finally out of the poor house, and it’s all thanks to you.
Old man: No son, we did it together. Remember it was you who inspired me to see my invention in different ways.

(We hear a phone ringing. The old man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of Swiss cheese and holds it to his ear.)

Old man: Hello. Oh yes—he’s right here.

(He covers one of the holes in the Swiss cheese.)

Old man: It’s for you—sounds like a pretty girl.

(He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.)

Son: Daaaaaaad!


March 22, 2004

Phone Plays: Episode1

To make up for my lack of effort over the past little while as well as my total lack of pride and faith, I have decided to make this week, “Phone Plays” week. Every day for the next five days I thought I would Never Leave will host a different Phone play. For those of you who don’t know, a Phone Play is a play in involving or about phones.

Episode 1: A One-Sided Conversation.

(Jack Chance walks into a tiny crowded bar wearing a Red Sox baseball hat and an expensive looking beige suit. On the dance floor mohawked punk-rockers pogo-dance and spit at the band--a group of black leather clad Japanese rockers with greasy black bowl cuts. Chance orders a drink from the bar then retreats to the relative safety and quiet of an old-fashioned phone booth near the ladies rest room. He dials a number.)

CHANCE: Randolph, it’s me, Chance.
CHANCE: Well I don’t give a shit what everyone else calls you.
CHANCE: I just think Randy is a stupid sounding name.
CHANCE: No that’s not true. You have..
CHANCE: No, stop interrupting me. You have a right to call YOURSELF whatever you want.
CHANCE: Well I don’t care.
CHANCE: No, I’m not.
CHANCE: Dude, drop it; look I’m in the bar. You want to tell me what I’m supposed to do now or you want to fight over your fucking stupid sounding little bitch name.
CHANCE: Are you out of your mind! I’ll walk out on this fucking job right now you son..
CHANCE: What, What you fucking prick. You want to talk money you fucking piece of shit. You should see the fucking suit I’m wearing and you think I do this shit for money you fucking clown.
CHANCE: That’s you—you fucking bitch name having ass licker. Don’t you bring fucking aliases into this. I’m out.
CHANCE: No, fuck it good-by.

(Chance slams down the phone. He is visibly agitated. He runs his hands through his hair, rubs his temples, sighs, lights a cigarette then picks up the phone and dials a number.)

CHANCE: OK, Randy—just tell me what I am supposed to do.


March 21, 2004

The Eye of Samarath.

In all my years on land and at sea, never have I seen a gem so precious as the Eye of Samarath.

The eye was not the largest, nor was it the most multi-faceted, but somehow it was the most perfect. About the size of a common lark’s skull, this jewel seems to weigh much more than it should, weighing in fact more than a common monkey’s skull.

It seems to hold light within it’s cold hard confines and to only dole it out slowly, so that if you were to hold it up close to a lamp then take it into a dark room, it would continue to glow for up to four minutes. I know this is true because I once did just this with it and glow it did for nearly four minutes.

Alas, the eye was lost to me in a moment of weakness when for a bag of cocaine the precious sparkler was traded from me.

If you have seen this priceless semiprecious stone please contact me right away.


March 20, 2004

“Asses of Vermont”

Thanks for participating in the Vermont Stage drawing for
tickets to “Asses of Vermont” and dinner at Trattoria
Delia! Congratulations to our winner: Ronny Kapper of

Tickets for the show are still available, but selling fast!

“Asses of Vermont”
starring Mark Nash as The Librarian

Vermont Stage Company presents Glen Danzig's surprise
Off-Broadway smash hit about a Dutch librarian who finds
a book about the various types of asses in Vermont. As he traces
the books path around he world and back though time, he
discovers what can only be described as a miracle.

March 17th - 28th
Weds-Sun 7:30pm
Sat/Sun 2pm

The Outhouse

Students $15/$20

March 19, 2004


Getting out of debt is not easy, but it is Biblical.

Proverbs 22:7 tells us that "the rich rule over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender." God instructs us to do that which is beneficial to us—no matter who we must make fun of, strip bare of clothing or even slaughter in the process, and getting out of credit card debt would allow so many of us to give back to God's kingdom.

To learn how you can gain financial liberty today go to:

To unsubscribe from future Christian Debt offers, please email helen@satanicmurderbride.com with "remove" in the subject line or write to the following postal address:

Murder Brides of the Devine Lord Satan
4742 NW Boca Raton Blvd,
Boca Raton FL 33431.

March 18, 2004

The Lyrics to my electro-clash song.

You can suck my ballz
suck my balls

suck on my ballz
because I am your bitch

take the cocaine
don't dump it down the drain
dump it on my asshole

sniff my ass
sniff my ass

I am your bitch
you can ride my back
I am your bitch

smoke some crack
smoke some crack

When I lick your ass
I make your ass freeze
when I lick your ass
you say
no more please

no more please
give me more
give me more
give me more
give me more
give me more

that's what you are

I am a super star

Let me lick your assssssssssssss

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