i am sorry that i have not posted in some time now.
i wish i could say that i was too busy, or that nothing of note has happened.

i wish i could say that

i celebrated my 32nd birthday last night.

and yes, i wish i could say that another milestone made me wiser but really all all i can say is that it made my key board sticker.

i spilled a coke on it you pervs...

i do have story that i would like to share with you,

many years ago i was (and still am) friends with a guy who went on to a local university

which mean that i could go get college tail on weekends without the essays.

it is funny that it ended up that i had to bone up on my education, no pun intended, get these poor young women to basically spread their sheets...

i am(was/is/are) an asshole.

i hope, id like to think that I've made some progress but i am not so sure (although i know that i do prefer a crossword puzzle to an unassuming young woman these days - they being somebodies daughters and all.)

anyway

i was out with a friend earlier who told me the story of how i did the most epic thing in the world.

and this is even better than the time i stole all the wheel locks off the bikes of the apartment complex in davis...

i had been at a hippie party, and another friend and i decided to knock down their teepee, and liberate (read: steal) some beer.

pockets full we ran to the car amidst the floating ashes (teepee+bonfire=civic event)

on the way home one of the guys in the back seat threw up in the street when we screamed at the...

one second.

after the hippie party we went to an all night 24 hour restaurant.

and someone (read: me) bet another guy that he could not drink an entire bottle of Tabasco sauce and a glass of milk.

high off his burning of a hippie party he accepted.

the deal was drink both and i would pay, he got half way through before the waitress who had served us our food took pity (read, again: did not want someone to puke in her section) and comped our meal.

we (not he) ate like kings.

that leads me to a spot in my like that is only vaguely remembered.

there have been many drinks over the years and when in the company of my friend, there might have been a time or two that i may bumped into things of no consequence with his truck, i am not proud to say it but then again i was young, and even that doesn't excuse it. still it only happened once or twice and no one was ever hurt.

that said.

we were driving home from the restaurant, i was not driving, i, sadly was in the back seat next to the guy that
who was stuck in the middle who started throwing up.

somehow he managed to hold it down until the driver finally pulled over, we were all screaming at him to stop the car.

and then that leads to the two women.

the ones we picked up at the hippie party.

now.

i can not tell you their names, and, more is the point, they looked like.

and

and  i cannot tell you what stupid argument we got into (my friend and i) although i am kinda sure that it had to do with the pair of girls

I'm pretty sure that there may have been a midget cop (read: actual policeman of dwarfism stature)

but i do know that i can tell you this...

he left his truck cab window open, and i pissed into his front seat, the stream was mighty, it crept up from handle to window to seat.

that was around 3 in the morning.

he was (pardon the pun) pissed but by 6 we were playing video games and laughing about it.

and no, i did not help clean it up.

who's got a big red cherry nose?

Last night, my son and I stopped for dinner at National Mechanics an hour or so before heading to a concert. National Mechanics is a restaurant and bar in the Old City section of Philadelphia,and one of my son's favorite haunts.

We came inside out of the cold December evening and were greeted by a dark-haired young lady who grabbed a couple of laminated menus and directed us to a table toward the rear of the dining area adjacent to the bar, lively with Happy Hour patrons. As we each perused our menus, a waitress, whom my son knew, politely introduced herself and took our drink orders. She returned with the two glasses and accepted our dinner requests.

My son and I talked as we waited for our meals. I regularly interrupted his train of thought to have him identify various songs playing on the slightly-too-loud piped-in music.

At a point in our conversation, I was distracted by something in my peripheral vision. The dark-haired hostess was having words with a man near the bar. The man, whose back was to me, was wearing an ill-fitting Santa Claus suit. Although they were less than two feet from where I sat, I could not hear their exchange over the ambient music. From the stern expression on the hostess' face, it was apparent she was not pleased. Her jaw worked and her brow knitted as she made her point. The Santa man listened silently and rocked slightly from side to side. Finally, he dropped his shoulders and staggered toward the the door. The hostess, with arms defiantly folded across her chest, watched to confim his exit. As she made her way back to her post by the front door, I tapped her shoulder when she passed within reach.

"Did you just throw Santa out of here?", I asked.

"Santa was in here earlier.," she replied, "He's had enough."

happy holidays

sight

hindsight is 20/20 and cheap sunglasses won't help you see at all. i know, that makes no sense. it's been one of those days.

sigh.

josh pincus is confessing

I have spent nearly five years expanding my blog with observances of the quirkiness of my surroundings, chronicling the deaths of those once celebrated and now forgotten, stories from my past and, of course, my silly drawings. In that time, I presented my views on religion, both my own and those of which I am not a follower. Because I have often been questioned as the peer-appointed spokesman of the Jewish faith, I have tried to detail the unusual customs and rituals associated with being a member of “The Chosen People”. Well, it’s time for Josh Pincus to come clean.

I grew up in a Jewish household. To me, that meant we didn’t drag a tree into our living room every December, we didn’t dress up in our finest clothes on a late Sunday in April, and we didn’t believe that Jesus was Our Savior… whatever that meant. (Who thought, at six years old, I needed saving?) Despite the majority of my classmates also being Jewish, we weren't denied participation in Christmas card and gift exchanges at school and dyeing Easter eggs every spring. It also didn’t stop me from enjoying another practice associated with my communion wafer-munching friends — the visit to Santa Claus.

Not a moment in my real life, but still a new comic!

The most magical time of the year... I suppose

My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD for a limited time.

26 unusual songs, an annoying BONUS track and a custom full-color cover all for you and for FREE!

Just CLICK HERE for “A Non-Traditional Christmas 2010.

Happy Holidays from your pal JPiC!

(Please contact me if you have trouble with the download.)