A small dream

Over this past week I have taken some time to look at our recent election and to think about the results of some of the propositions that were on the bill. I don’t want to get into a political discussion but I am disappointed and saddened to see that proposition 8 had passed and I am not sure if it was a good or bad thing that the prostitution proposition didn’t. Do we want prostitutes roaming the streets without fear of retribution for the sale of sex? That would depend entirely on how I was feeling at that time, but for the most part it is probably a good idea that we didn’t pass that one. Sooner or later it would be like that place in the movie Sin City where hookers run the streets and deliver their own sexy brand of street justice. That is beside the point though. The proposition outcome that intrigued me the most was whether or not to name the waste management plant after W.
Allow me to clarify for a moment. This proposition did not intrigue me because I wanted to see ole’ W embarrassed or vindicated by the results of this vote or that I thought it was an important issue. I really could give a shit. What piqued my interest is that someone could easily put this up for a vote. It amazed me that someone could get this measure on the ballot. It seems almost silly. At the same time it looks like a golden opportunity for yours truly. I want that Waste Disposal plant named after me.
Now I may not be a former president of the United States or owner of the Texas Rangers but I have done some pretty sweet stuff in my day. There are countless adventures and world records that I could use to bolster my resume for this honor. The people who came up with this proposition obviously wanted to name it after W. as an insult for the ineptitude that is often discussed about his presidency. For me, it would be a tremendous honor to have anything named after myself even if it is a waste disposal plant. I can see it now.

Now here’s the plan. I am sure that somebody out there has the experience needed to get the ball rolling on this thing (I am looking at you Ronnie). Let’s get a grass roots campaign going for yours truly. Once it is on the ballot there is no way I am going to lose this thing. So please, any help would be awesome. I have one small dream. Let’s try to make it a reality.

Oh happy day

I have been hit with a tremendous wave of joy. MAD TV is being cancelled. I cannot explain to you the amount of hate that I have for this show. It is HORRIBLE. This show consists of skits that go on far longer than they should and are poorly thought out in the first place. Oh my god, that guy is dressed up like a big kid!!! Wait his names Stewart? Hahahahah. Look at the rosy cheeks. Oh man he isn’t going to listen to his mom!!! HAHAHHAAHAHA. Hilarious. Pardon my sarcasm but I find this show to make me dumber and lower my sperm count. I thought I would set up a list of things I would rather do than watch MAD TV. Here goes;

Anything

This picture has consumed me

I have been staring at this picture for the last few weeks. It is on my desktop and I made a wallet sized version to look at when I am on the run. This picture is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. When I examine this picture I find myself contemplating the cosmos and the small role that we as humans play in this gigantic universe. This picture makes me think of the cosmic relation we have to all living beings. It also makes me think about dog toupees.
Why do more dogs not wear toupees? Look at this little guy. His level of sophistication has jumped leaps and bounds due to the simple application of a hairpiece. I almost would imagine that this dog could engage you in witty conversation about how to tie a Windsor knot and what brandies are the best after dinner treat. We could talk about foreign diplomacy and the impact that the gold rush had on Americans migration to California. However, I think we could easily segue from serious discussions into the best place to take a shit that people will step in and what another dog’s ass can tell you about them. We have much to learn from one another this chap and I. I just really hope that the toupee gives him the power to talk.

Torri Spelling Syndrome

My friend Catfish sent me this picture today with a question. The question was what is wrong with this picture (click on the photo if you need a better look)? The first thing that jumps out at me are those clothes. TACKY!!! The second thing that I noticed is the tasteless combination of accessories. That bag with those shoes? YUCKKKKKK!!! However, the most starling thing about this photo is the young woman in the middle. I am trying not to be mean here, but just because you are tall it does not necessarily mean that you are a model. Patrick Ewing is gigantic but you don’t see him modeling during fashion week in Paris. This young lady isn’t a gargoyle but this has to be about one of the worst “fashion” shots I have ever seen. It could possibly be the way that she is standing or the goofy hat that makes her not the most photogenic of subjects, or this could be part of something much bigger. You see, I have been hard at work on a theory for some years now and I feel this picture may be the thing I have had missing from my argument. If anything this picture lend ethos to my theory;

The Torri Spelling Syndrome
In our world we have many people who are afforded advantages in life based solely on their family ties. Whether it is getting a job with the same company that ones parents work for or getting into a school based on the alumni status of relatives, your bloodlines can act as the extra edge needed to advance in life. Nowhere is this more prevalent than it is in the entertainment industry. Much like Torri Spelling, this young lady is probably far less qualified than other people who auditioned for the job at hand, but I would bet good money that she is closely related to the person that decided to run this ad. That is the fundamental principle of TSS. TSS is the theory that people who are in positions of control will ignore the usual standards to allow their loved ones to participate when they obviously shouldn’t. This was most blatantly abused by late producer Aaron Spelling casting his daughter Torri in Beverly Hills 90210. Take a good look at the cast and see if it adds up. Now take an even deeper look into the acting on that show and remember that in a show filled with stiff acting performances hers were by far the worst (although I will admit that the “Donna Martin Graduates” episode was a tour de force performance). There will always be less than qualified people thrust into the world of entertainment because they have connections within the business.

This is a monumental day for the TSS theory. With more empirical evidence such as this we are getting closer to finally connecting all the dots of TSS. This picture for TSS would be on par with an evolutionary biologist finding the missing link. This is a most spectacular find.

Kick rocks you busy body

The other day I was catching the bus home because my helicopter was out of service and the limo has been having break problems. I jumped on a very empty bus and took a seat somewhat close to the front of the bus. The bus had gone a few blocks when an older woman and her husband sat down next to me. The first thing that I realized was that I could already smell this woman before she could sit down next to me. She had that smell that was a mix of extremely potent perfumes, some sort of ancient baby powder, and a strange alcoholic stench, no doubt, to mask the embalming fluid. The second thing I noticed was this track suit clad, broach wearing mummy’s hands tapping me on my shoulders. After I took of my ear phones this is how the conversation went;

OLD LADY: Braaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnsssss (gurgle gurgle)

No I am kidding, but she did almost look like a Zombie. It was more like this;

OLD LADY: Excuse me but do you have some toilet paper? I just shit myself. This type of thing usually happens when you die. The body releases the remaining bowels.

Kidding again. For cereal this is how things happened.

OLD LADY: Excuse me, but what do you think you are doing?

REAL HOT SEXY GUY (me): Riding the bus mam.

OLD LADY: These seats are meant for seniors and people with disabilities.

RHSG: (looking around the empty bus) Yes I am aware of that. The second that someone comes in that needs this seat I will gladly get up and give it to them. Is that okay?

OLD LADY: You really should not be sitting down in this seat right now. That is a very rude thing you are doing.

RSHG: MAM! I AM GOING TO SIT HERE UNTIL SOMEONE WHO DESERVES THIS SEAT WALKS ON THE BUS. THEN I WILL MOVE AND LET THAT PERSON HAVE THIS SEAT! IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU?

At this point two things happened. The ladies husband agreed with me that this was a fair sounding deal. That, and the lady went into what I can only describe as a seizure or shock because for the remainder of time I sat in that seat she seemed to be convulsing and making a lot of “Humph” and “Pshaw” noises (it may have been her body turning back on again). Yes, I eventually got up out of the seat to let someone sit down much to the dismay of my new friend. When I got of the bus it looked like she had calmed herself down.
Now I want this to be clear. I have a very healthy respect for past generations. I just have no patience for busy bodies. Could she have waited until the bus crowded up to see what kind of move I made? I think so. But no, she couldn’t, because this old hag doesn’t have anything better to do in her life than explain to people how to live theirs. Therefore I would like to offer her a little advice.

Please try to wash all of that perfume, makeup, and death off of yourself. You are scaring the children and making dogs and cats go apeshit.

You sir, are a retard

The young gentleman above used to be the backup center for the University of Texas Longhorn football team. I say “used to” because he is part of the continuing trend of young people getting in trouble as a result of putting a little too much of their personal lives on facebook. In this case our fat, pimply faced, penis haired young friend wrote this in regards to Obama becoming the next president;

"all the hunters gather up, we have a #$%&er in the whitehouse"

Obviously our mongoloid pal is not the sharpest tool in the shed. This mouth breather is not alone though. Just this past week a young cheerleader from the Fackin PATriots was relieved of her duties due to pictures she put up on facebook that show a young gentleman of the intoxicated variety after he had been cheifed with swastikas all over him. I also remember the story from a few months back when a young man who was on trial for manslaughter (drunk driving) had his sentenced increased because of pictures and comments he put up on facebook that showed he was less than remorseful about the whole situation. The question I have is when will people learn?

Nowadays if you think that there won’t be repercussions for what you post on your own personal sites you have another thing coming. I constantly think of pictures that I could have posted from my past on the web that could come back to haunt me when I finally do get arrested for a nationally televised crime. I would not like the mangina pictures of myself with three basketball player sized trannies at a bobbing for apples competition during the love parade when this inevitable headline hits the papers;

LOCAL AREA MAN BREAKS INTO ZOO AND FIGHTS HIPPO TO THE DEATH

I claim lavender homie (Tons of Gang signs)

Besides watching a lot of soft core porn on HBO I really like to watch shows about gangs and prisons. Don’t ask me if there is a connection because there is and it’s frighteningly perverted. The one show in particular is Gangland, the show that has the sound of a man screaming like he has just been stabbed before they show each vignette (gwaaaaahhh). Gangland is great because it shows a lot about how gangs have been formed across the United States and how they have come to have the traditions and rivalries that they do. It made me start to think of getting my own gang together. You may think it is easy but there are many components to having a successful gang, and you need to think long and hard about the type of stuff needed to succeed in this “thug life.” That is why I have decided on a few items that I think lend credibility to my burgeoning gang and the way we “roll.”

Colors
The color that you wear is an important step to creating a gang identity. These colors are a visual symbol of who you represent on the streets. The problem that I have with gang colors is that most gangs go with the tired colors of blue or red. Basically, a few people decided on these colors and then everybody copied them. Of course, there are gangs like the Latin kings who go with black and gold but fuck them because they are pussies. I have noticed that there are many colors to choose from that people have not picked yet. I have decided to go with lavender for two reasons. One, it is a sissy color to some but it won’t look so sissy after I just gut stabbed you for calling me a fag. Two, nobody rocks lavender and I think that we could probably get a good bulk deal on bandanas and outerwear if we pick that color.

Turf
Right now I think I will keep the turf to the block I live on. There are no gangs that currently run on this street and I think I could set up a nice little base of operations. Besides I am lazy and I always like to be close to home in case I have to take a shit.

Rackets
My gang is going to be into all the usual stuff. We will deal drugs, extort, claim protection fees, and all other types of “ill Shit.” The one thing this gang is going to do is step outside of the box in our operations. I think that we will be the first gang to deal with the black market sales of puppies and kittens. This is an opportunity to stake claim in an illegal activity that some may deem a little too pussyish(?) for a gang. I tell you people will be fighting hard to get in on that racket, but by the time they do we will have the whole town on lockdown.

Signs
Now this is a tough one. Stacking signs is an important skill for all gangs to have. It’s a form of silent communication and also a really cool thing to do when dancing. The problem is that you can’t have signs until you have something to sign about. Which brings me to my final category for now.

Gang name
I am still at a loss for what I want to do about this one. Do I try to claim a street name or area code in my gang name? Do I add a title like Lords or God’s? Dare I even try to claim a name of ethnic implications? After much thought I realized that I want a gang that is an equal opportunity employer. That’s why I am going to go away from convention and call my gang the Fighting Gentlemen.

We will be having a meet and greet 40oz luncheon coming up in the next couple of weeks. Please be prepared to explain a little bit about yourself and what types of “shit” you are into. It would help if you could bring a police record and credit report.

Do you hate Wednesday too?

Hump Day my ass! Right? Am I right or what? As referenced by the post below and the old picture above there is little love lost between myself and Wednesday. I find it to be a day that brings little to the table. It's kind of like the person that comes to a party and sits by the dip the whole time leering at people explaining why they don't drink because of the carbs. It's a lot like that game Crossfire or condoms, it's useless. That is why I implore all 8 people who read this blog to send me their own interpretation on days of the week and how they feel about them. If you are feeling artistic or feeling yourself why not try to send something over to burtdestruction@gmail.com. Basically, if you submit anything it is going up on the site. Well, anything except for cock pics. Let's try to save those for craigslist.

Thought I forgot about you?

Not a chance you piece of shit. Someday, somehow, I will hunt you down and end you.

Everytime it rains...

I think of Prince and this Deep Thought from Jack Handy;

“If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is "Probably because of something you did."”

Robocop on a unicorn? Finally, some real art!

Fuck Andy Warhol. Fuck Michelangelo. Fuck performance pieces. Fuck beat poetry. Fuck Dali. Fuck all art students. Fuck neo anything. And a big fuck you to the Mona Lisa.

I have finally seen the highest form of art that has ever been produced. The combination of genres and the composition of these pieces is truly amazing. A small group of the greatest artists of all time have displayed some of their work on flickr. This new, and most excellent type of art can be seen here . The only thing that I think can top this would be oil paintings of all the action stars of the 80’s screaming in their most notable movies. That and nude sculptures of me pleasuring myself.

My belt broke this weekend

No, it wasn’t because I am too fat. The belt just broke because of horrible craftsmanship. At first I thought it may have broken due to my Herculean strength but then I studied the belt and noticed the poor use of epoxy on the belts attachment. I guess I am not really going anywhere with this post other than to say that belts are pretty important, and besides suspenders they are really one of the only devices that holds peoples pants up. I don’t consider shoelaces an acceptable belt, it moves around way too much. That’s why this whole incident got me using my thinking box. Since suspender should only be worn by gigantic fat men, stylish gay newspaper editors and butlers I am not able to wear such a pants holding device. That is why I am going to come up with something better than a belt, something much better than suspenders. I think I am going to have magnets implanted in my skin and sewn into every pair of pants and shorts that I have. Take that belt industry!!!

R.I.P. Dolemite

Yesterday we were faced with the tragic loss of one the world’s greatest performers, Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite himself. If you have not had the chance to see Mr. Moore in the golden age of his career as the street wise pimp you should be ashamed of yourself. Words cannot express the prose that this man spoke in, his undeniable sex appeal and the way he brought the character to life. I think that perhaps the best way to honor a man such as Rudy Ray would be to let him say something himself. Dolemite would say;

Man, move over and let me pass 'fore they have be to pullin' these Hush Puppies out your mothafuckin' ass!

You no-business, born-insecure, jock-jawed motha-FUCKA!

That rat soup eatin', insecure, honky mutha fucka!

Detective: Now, I know you think you're smart, see, cause you got all them flashy clothes, you got that big car there, you got all them black bitches working for you.
Dolemite: You forgot about the white ones.

You will be missed Disco Godfather, you will be missed.

Excuse me sir, did you shit your pants?

This weekend I had the pleasure of visiting beautiful Delores Park in the Mission District on a fantastically sunny day to watch the red bull soap box races. Due to the fact that it was such a nice day out I decided to treat myself to a couple of cold fresh beers. The cold beers tasted great but because of my child sized bladder I had to make more than a few trips to one of the many porta potty stations all over the park. When I first went up to the lines for the toilet I noticed that one stall did not have a line in front of it. A nice older gentleman who looked to be accompanied by an escort explained that someone had jumped into the stall about ten minutes ago and was not coming out. You have to feel for someone in a situation like that. I reasoned to myself that he must have some case of explosive diarrhea or he was doing drugs in the toilet. Either way he was in there for a reason.
You can imagine my surprise when I returned to the same area about a half hour later and our friend was still in the toilet. Although, people had now begun to bang on the stall door and were trying to force the door open. Not until a half an hour later with the cops finally at the door did any response come from inside. He finally emerged after an officer came to the door with what looked like running pants for him to put on, which leads me to why I wrote about this incident in the first place.
If you are going to be stuck in a porto potty there better be one hell of a goddamned good reason that you could stay in a bucket of filth that long. Obviously, this guy must have shit his pants and he didn’t want to come out until the party was over. I began to think of other possible reasons that could compel one to stay in a place like that for so long. Here is what I came up with at the time;

He is high as fuck on drugs and the tight space and smell of that porto water were the only things that helped him stay calm.

Someone at the races had him marked for death and he had to hide in the john until he was able to get a police escort out of the area.

This person has a fetish for doodie and was getting his rocks off doing a little poo play.

Our friend may have had too much to drink and he wanted to take a nap without being bothered.

Or ……SHIT HIS PANTS AND STAYED WITH HIS POO PANTS ON IN THAT PORTO POTTY FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF WHILE EVERYBODY KNOCKED ON THE DOOR UNTIL THE COPS CAME WITH A CLEAN PAIR OF SHORTS FOR HIM UNTIL HE WALKED OUT OF THE THING LIKE NOTHING HAD HAPPENED WITH A LOOK LIKE “WHAT THE FUCK ARE ALL OF YOU LOOKING AT”!!!

Working on the weekends

Things have been tight around the Destruction household lately. Like I have said in the past I do a lot of different jobs to make ends meet during the week. I do just enough to have the essentials necessary for the type of lifestyle I live. You know, food, clothes, a roof over my head, porn, beer, slip n slides and oil paintings of myself, normal stuff. Yet, I find myself sitting there on the weekend with little money to go out and treat myself to a nice dinner or to catch a musical (musical = Stripclub). That’s why I have decided that I would like to start working on the weekends for a while. Now I don’t want a job that is going to take up the whole weekend and I want a job that I would enjoy doing. That’s why I have decided to become a male stripper.

I am going to become one of those male strippers that come to the house during a batchelorette or grandmothers tea party. I feel like my talent for acting and showmanship would not be utilized as effectively in the strip club environment. This is not to say that I don’t have the dancing skills needed to be a club performer. I am a fucking tremendous dancer. I just feel that the art of coming to a party where only a few people know you are going to be performing really adds to the excitement. Plus, I have a awesome idea to spice up the mundane practicum’s that have plagued this job.

For far too long male strippers have been relegated to using the same boring costumes and acts whenever they enter a situation of sexiness. Whether it’s the policeman sent over because of the noise complaints or the plumber that’s here to “fix some pipes,” it has all grown old and tired. That’s why I think that I am going to do so well as a stripper who does house calls. I am going to show up as and explorer.

I am going to knock on the door in a full head to toe safari outfit. I plan to look something like this gentleman here;

When someone answers the door I will politely ask, in an English accent, to be invited in to take a look at the house. “You see,” I will say, “I apologize for intruding upon your party but I have been searching far and wide for a very special treasure that has eluded me for years and I think that this house may contain the answers.” At this point I think I will have captivated the crowd enough that someone will eventually ask me exactly what it is I have been searching for. That’s when I pull out the boombox with C&C Music Factory’s Everybody Dance Now cued up and tell them “the treasure I have been searching for is some hot female snatch that is ready to ogle my grinding man meat.” I expect an eruption of chaos and excitement as these ladies begin to make it rain with 20’s. Let me know what you think.

We need a new type of debate

Thank god that was the final debate last night. I have a hard time watching the debates because I feel like we are seeing the person trying to put forward the best image of themselves as possible while sugarcoating their beliefs and ideals. Of course this is going to happen, but I just wanted you to know. I need people to hear my feelings because I am insecure and if I don’t express myself I get upset that nobody knows how I feel and that leads to me soaking in a bubble bath and crying my eyes out while I drink Nyquil, but I digress. The problem is that in America today we value much more than just a message or an image. We need to see actual results in action. That is why I have a plan to get rid of debates in general and to institute what I call Physical Challenges.

These physical challenges will be a series of mental, physical, and emotional tests that each candidate must go through before a live audience. Now I haven’t really narrowed these down yet but I think that if I could throw out a few ideas maybe we could start brainstorming or start a think group, whatever. Here are my initial thoughts;

Have the first challenge actually be a physical challenge from the show Double Dare. I recommend that is be one where they have the bucket on their head and they have to fill it by squeezing juice out of something, hopefully oversized foam fruit.

Wild bird calling.

Have the contestants play a game of darts. Each candidate has to have three alcoholic drinks of their choice throughout the game.

Swimsuit competition.

Each candidate will be shown a series of pictures in the same order while attached to a heart rate monitor. These pictures will be very sexy, but of both a hetero and homo sexual nature. Maybe even some kinky animal stuff?

Freestyle rap battle

The candidates must each play a game of Pictionary with their family. It would be a really great look at the family dynamic and how much pressure the candidates put on their children for failing.

Hidden talent.

The candidates must be locked in a room with a crazy left wing or right wing activist who has just smoked a pretty large amount of rock cocaine and try to see how long they can talk to them before the security has to come in.

Log rolling.


Each contestant will have to do both the American Gladiator “Eliminator” and “the Crag” from guts. This part of the competition will be timed.

That’s all I have for now. I think that if we could find a way to make all of these events have a relevant scoring system this could really work. In the event of a tie we will have the candidates square off in some type of cage fight with an assortment of weapons and wild animals in the cage. All of the representatives of government must dress up like they are in Mad Max and the referee will be Tina Turner. As always, I am open to suggestions.

Wednesday tip

Always wipe twice.

RED WINE

No, I am not talking about the song by UB40. I am talking about sweet red wine, the nectar of the gods. As evidenced by yesterday’s post I am none to thrilled with Monday’s as of late and I needed a pick me up. Well guess who was there for me when I truly needed someone. That’s right, red wine. You happen to be delicious when poured into spaghetti sauce. You also happen to be delicious when I pour you down my throat. I don’t give a flying boner if you stain my teeth and clothing. I just like you for you. That’s why I would like to address this letter to red wine so that the whole world can see my feelings.

Dear Red Wine.

Let’s make babies and fly away to the south of France and live in small château for the rest of our days. We could take long horseback rides across the sweeping countryside and pretend to become cheese connoisseurs. I would massage your back and you could massage my stomach. I long for the time when I will feel your embrace and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as we watch the sun dip into the ocean whilst aboard my gigantic pleasure yacht.

Sexually yours,
Burt

Maybe we could try to repackage this Monday

I have noticed that over the years companies have learned to rebrand themselves in ways that serve the company interests. A few notable examples would be;

Bringing Jack back to the Jack n the Box commercials

KFC making the colonel a wise cracking hip-hop snowboarding chicken hawker and then changing him back to the folksy old racist grandpa

Mountain Dew branding itself the extreme soda (but aren’t all sodas extreme?)

Anyways, I think that these types of changes brought the companies back to a notoriety that they had long since lost. You see, I don’t think that any one respects Mondays anymore. And why would you? They stink. Ever since that movie Office Space came out and the line “a case of the Mondays” was uttered people have associated Monday’s, already a horrible day at this point, as an almost terminal type of disease. That’s why I think it would help if why tried to repackage Monday as a newer and hipper weekday. From now on I think that we should call Monday, HJandcheeseburgersday. Hopefully, we could get some fast food companies to sponsor it so that every Monday you can go and get a cheep cheeseburger with which you can enjoy your HJ to. I am open to ideas though.

JOOSE!!!!!!

The other week I was lucky enough to hang out with my friend Catfish. I was already balls deep in some Mickey’s so Catfish went down to the store to get some supplies. Upon returning from the store I noticed that he had gotten something besides the usual 40 oz of malt liquor. He instead got the energy enhanced, 24 ounce malt liquor JOOSE. I think it tastes like gasoline mixed with tangerine juice. Catfish thinks it tastes like assholes. Here is how one company insider defines it;

JOOSE has been described by Terry Kester, VP of United Brands Co., as "a little bit of mango, a little bit of papaya and a little bit of lightning."

Now I don’t know about you but I have never tried to drink lightning. You know, because it could fucking kill you. I think that Terry is obviously trying promote the product as an edgy no nonsense type of brand for the serious malt liquor drinker. JOOSE also has its own catch phrase for when people drink it. Wikipedia has this in its definition;

In the popular lexicon drinking a JOOSE is described as "getting on the grid."

Getting on the grid indeed. Let me tell you something. I “got on the grid” and was not very impressed. Now maybe that is because I have not taken the time to try all four JOOSE flavors. I must be missing out because the feedback from fans of JOOSE on the website is extremely positive. Here is one comment from one of many satisfied customers;

Josh, Beaverton, OR 9/25/08
JOOSE has changed my life! All of a sudden the sun is brighter, the grass is greener, girls look better, and I can stay up for days straight! Portland, Oregon hasn’t been the same since you have invaded our town. Drink JOOSE! For we…are JOOSECORE!

With a review like that and many other ones here , I think I might just have to change my mind about never drinking a JOOSE again. I also encourage all ten people who read this blog to weigh in on how things were when you “got on the grid.” Also, please let me know if anyone dies from drinking it. That lightning taste still has me freaked out.